Happy End
by DaifukuBun
Summary: Based strongly on Mirai Nikki. 12 chosen people were given the gift of a future diary, and the goal of the survival game is to kill them before they kill you. When only two remain, will they be able to kill the other after protecting them for so long? USUK
1. Prologue

**AN: You're not really supposed to understand the prologue. Don't worry.**

**This is USUK/UKUS, and Arthur is some sort of weird mix of yandere and tsundere. Because I enjoy mucking up character foundations, yaaay!**

**If you don't like boyxboy, run, run so far away. This story is extremely gay. :3**

ooo

"Hey... wake up..." Arthur shook the American's cold shoulder, "wake up, you git... this shouldn't be happening..."

Dull blue eyes looked up at the Brit lifelessly.

"Alfred...?"

ooo

"Mum, Dad, I'm home." a younger Arthur set his school bag on the side table with a dull thud. The British teen blinked at the silence. Thinking nothing more of it, he set off toward his plain and dark room. Once inside, he leaned on the wall looking at the steel contraption before his eyes. Its contents stared back at him, horrified and frozen.

Suddenly, he was yanked backward. Something had gripped his short blonde locks harshly, pulling him back heartlessly. He let out a choked gasp as his body hit the wall with a hair-raising thud, had anyone else been around, they surely would have winced. Cracking one green eye open, the last thing he saw was a person in a mint green bunny suit, raising an axe.


	2. Sign Up

**AN: I had to rewrite this, because I reread the previously done first chapter, and wanted to lose my lunch. So sorry for the wait!**

**If you've seen the anime Mirai Nikki, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say this isn't exactly a mushy gushy romance, but it's nonetheless still a romance. **

**Boyxboy, USUKUS, don't like, don't read.**

**Other Pairings included: LietPo, One-sided RusAme, Franada, One-sided Spamano (humorous, really).**

**Beware OOC, character death, attempted murder, and a particularly creepy Iggy with many skeletons in his closet (not literally. Or is it?).**

**SIGN UP**

**o**

Alfred cracked open his tired eyes slightly at the obnoxious buzzing sound of his phone, the little screen flashing at each small vibration. He stared at it from across the room and coiled into the duvet even more, ignoring it in choice of sleep.

o

The school bells rang out their dull calls, signaling lunch break that hour.

The American introvert fiddled with his phone under the table, grinning slightly at the little screen as he tapped on the keys repeatedly. He completely ignored the droning of his homeroom teacher, Ms. Natalia Arlovskaya, warning them on their way out of the classroom.

"Recently," she said, "there's been a local crime streak, so be careful on your way home. That'll be all for today."

The class stood, collecting their things and moving to the door. Some spoke with their friends, smiling and laughing happily, while the more mellow ones just trudged on their way.

Alfred sat in his seat, still grinning happily at the screen of his phone. He absentmindedly played with the ends of his signature jacket, bringing the phone above the desk as there was no more need to hide it.

"It's all ours," said one of his classmates, "but we don't have enough people."

They were planning on playing basketball during the break, and there just so happened to be a free court.

"No prob. Just gotta grab a few randoms." The tall boy's eyes scanned the room for a moment until they landed on a distracted Alfred, sitting all alone with his phone.

"Oh, hey Jones, you up for –"

"Forget it." his friend hissed, interrupting him.  
"Oh... Why?"

"He's so irritating when you actually get him talking, let alone playing a game with him. Just let him stick to his phone."

Alfred stood, hearing their entire hushed conversation, instead choosing to just move to another room until lunch was over. Sighing, he picked up his bag and moved to the door.

"Why is he always on his phone? Playing some game?"

"Nah, he's always just typing something. He doesn't have many friends though, so I doubt he's texting." the boy laughed tauntingly.

The American stepped out into the hallway, gazing at the screen of his phone still, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. He passed others, paying them no mind, just kept typing.

o

Natalia smiled falsely as the tapped on her student's shoulder, "Hey Kirkland, can you take these papers to the office?"

He blinked at her and nodded, "Sure, no problem."

"And I'll need you to help out in the library again today." she added.

"That's fine."

Alfred looked into the classroom as he passed it, observing the conversation. He set his eyes back on the phone and began typing,

"_Homeroom ends._

_Others looking for people to play basketball._

_Ms. Arlovskaya asked Arthur to deliver handouts. He is also helping out in the library._"

Later, he found himself on the familiar route home, light blue eyes scanning the phone behind squared glasses.

He wasn't always such an observer, really. He didn't used to be that way. In grade school, he would want to play with the other children, but they would always reject him, accusing him of being weird or irritating. They would just keep turning him down to the point that hardly anyone even talks to him anymore, and that's how it got to this point. Except for Gilbert, but he was an asshat so it didn't count.

"_A cat fell off the wall on the way home today._

_As always, that stone sits in my path. I'll go right today._"

Since he never had anything to do, he had started keeping a diary in his cell phone. Alfred was easily entertained, he was even comfortable just transcribing whatever he saw in his daily life, actually gathering great amusement from it.

He opened the door to his house, easily taking off his shoes and lazily dropping his bag right next to the doorway. His mom left another note telling him that she'd be in the office all night, as well as tomorrow night, because she was very busy at work these days.

Alfred ignores it, knowing what it is already, yawning as he moves to his bedroom. He discards his jacket onto his messy floor, too, and flops down onto the plush bed.

Oh, but, he does have friends, of course. Imaginary ones.

The American covered himself in the warm duvet and closed his eyes for the umpteenth time, envisioning them again, venturing into his own little world.

"Yo, Roma."

"Oh? Is that Al? Hold on, I'm just adjusting this little morbid process here..."

The cheery man fiddled with one of his many contraptions, scratching his head as he seemed stumped over something.

Alfred looked at the machine curiously, "Starting something weird again?"

"Aha!" Roma smiled, apparently figuring out whatever complicated problem he was faced with. "Yeah, sure am. The world needs its occasional jolt."

"Not when your jolt makes war, Dude."

Roma guffawed, "Now don't say it like that." he turned his eyes to the bored American, "This game is going to be quite entertaining, you know."

This 'imaginary friend' of Alfred's was Roma, and he was, apparently, the Lord of Space-Time. Essentially, the god who rules over space and time, if you didn't catch that.

Alfred sighed and pulled out his cellphone again, opening it and typing.  
"Ve~, writing in your diary again? Do you really have that much to write about?"

The peppy Italian appeared out of seemingly nowhere, startling the American and making him quickly turn to face him.

"Er – well – yeah, I guess." he blinked, fixing his glasses. "I just write what I see."

The Italian, another imaginary friend, peered over Alfred's shoulder, reading the entries. He had a hearty bowl of pasta in his hands, as usual.

"_Roma appears._

_Roma is up to something._"

Feliciano made an amused noise, and slurped his pasta noisily. After a moment he stopped and began to speak, "Your entries are really little. You know what that means? Ve, they're not useful, you know?"

Alfred looked at the screen again as Roma watched from afar, "I guess, but it's just the stuff that happens around me. It doesn't need a purpose."

"Hmm..." Feliciano paused mid-bite and studied the American for a long moment.

"I don't really want to get anything out of life, ya know? All I have it this thing," he gestured to his phone, "and all this!" he waved his hands around animatedly, referring to the space around him, the imaginary world. Everything seemed to faintly glow gold here, and Roma's machines were scattered about everywhere, aligning the room in a strange sense of decoration.

The real world him opened his eyes slightly to the darkness of the duvet, staring blankly.

"Are you lonely?" asked Roma kindly.

"Not really." he answered in both the real world and imaginary world.

"But if you could, would you change it?"

Alfred simply shifted his eyes, not looking the Roman god straight in the eyes, who smiled.

"Okay, then. I'm going to give you the future."

The American was about to ask what that meant, but his phone suddenly vibrated, stopping him from doing so. He pressed the 1 key, lighting the screen again. It was a text from his own phone number, but it says that it is from Roma.

The strangest thing, though, was that he got this text in the real world as well.

He smiled wryly, yet was puzzled at the phone.

"What are you up to now...?" he grumbled in both realities.

"Like I said before, a really entertaining game."

Alfred sighed, adjusting his glasses again, "Whatever, Man. This is all in my head anyway."

Roma just kept smiling at him, not acknowledging that last bit, as Alfred went back to reality.

o

A cloaked person trudged on the highway path, their silver hair peeking out of the hood slightly. They wore a gas mask, presumably to hide their identity, as they watched the retreating girl below.

The girl jogged, but she certainly wasn't very fast. The masked person could hear her panting from where they were, watching as the girl ran into an alley, hitting a dead end, and they began their descent.

"Please! Open the door! Someone, please!" the girl shrieked, pounding on the a random door as the masked person discreetly approached.

Their footsteps became heard and the girl gasped, turning to them and backing into a dead end of concrete.

"No... Not like this..." she whimpered quietly, lowly begging her captor to let her go, "Why...?"

She started to scream as the masked person suddenly lunged, revealing a sharp knife and plenty ability to use it. She could not scream, however, as she was dead in seconds. The killer still chose to continue continue hacking at her lifeless body as her blood stained the concrete walls of the alley.

o

Alfred made a small confused noise as he looked blankly at his phone screen yet again. He had just woken up that morning and grabbed his phone to write about the weather, but he was perplexed at what he saw upon opening the device.

He sat up on his bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"April 22, 6:59," he read aloud, "During my daily routine, I scored a double bull's-eye.

7:05, home. The news had a story about a killer on the loose. It happened nearby. And the killer is believed to have escaped through our school..."

"_This is weird. I ran into Gilbert on my way to school._

_There's a math pop quiz today._"

He didn't read the part about Gilbert out loud or the fact that there was a pop quiz today, even though all of the answers to mentioned quiz were shown below that as well.

He furrowed his brows as he stared at the entries continuously, realizing that these were entries that have yet to happen. He dismissed them as sleep-written.

Sighing, Alfred stood and stretched to get ready for this surely wonderful, repetitive day.

He picked up one of the many throwing darts his mom, Amelia, had supplied him as something to do, and turned to the board on his wall. Deciding to go along with what his phone said, he aimed at the center of the board. He threw it with lazy precision, and he did, in fact, land a double bull's-eye.

Thinking it as nothing more but pure coincidence, Alfred smiled and thought that today was his lucky day.

o

"Moving on," the broadcaster continued dully, as Alfred drank one of his many bottles of soda, "early this morning, a woman's body, with stab wounds, was discovered in an alley. Police believe that the murder resembles other killings occurring in the city vicinity, and have established an investigative task force."

Alfred paused worriedly, a little fearful about walking to school this fine morning.

"Further, the killer is believed to have escaped through W Academy grounds, using a route suggesting familiarity with the school building."

Realization struck Alfred as his eyes grew wide and he took his cell phone from his pocket, opening it and finding the most recent page of his diary. He found that the broadcaster was saying exactly what his diary was.

'It matches,' he thought, mouth gaping, 'no way, this has to be a coincidence.'

Later, just as his diary has predicted, he did indeed run into Gilbert on the way to school today. The albino was holding an obnoxiously loud conversation with another student, laughing and yelling randomly, seemingly annoying the other.

Alfred stopped walking and stared at him with wide, blue eyes, looking between the self-proclaimed Prussian and the diary. He knew that Gilbert was on the track team and should have been at morning practice, yet surely by coincidence, surely, he wasn't at practice today.

As the American grew baffled, he thought of Roma's smiling face, and the possible underlying intent behind it.

Of course, there was a pop quiz in math as well, shocking the American even more. He had gotten the inkling of a thought that perhaps it wasn't a coincidence, but dismissed it.

Nonetheless, he discreetly hid the phone under the table and observed the supposed correct answers. He nervously wrote them, trying not to get caught and shaking from intense bafflement.

During lunch, Gilbert had come to bug him again. The albino rudely sat right atop his desk, stunning the American out of whatever la-la-land he was floating through.

"How'd ya do, Jonesy?"

He was referring to the quiz, gazing meanly at the bullied American.

"Same old same old," came the nonchalant reply, "I can't compete with your awesome smart skills, Beilschmidt."

The Prussian just stared down at him, contemplating between poking the bear more, or just leaving. He chose the latter, hopping off the desk with nonexistent grace, grumbling "killjoy" as he left the scene.

"_During lunch, Gilbert bugs me again._" was the most recent entry from Alfred's diary, appearing out of literally nowhere as he was sure he had not written it.

His diary had predicted that he'd be questioned by some detectives on his way home as well, and sure enough, that came true as well. They inquired about the nearby murderer, and asked about fellow students and various teachers. It was about the serial killer Alfred had heard about on TV.

o

"What is this...?" asked Alfred, nearly speechless.

"A diary that tells your future." Roma said matter-of-factly.

"H-how, though? You aren't even real! How do you know my future? You're just in my mind –"

"Why can't it be possible for a god to reside in your mind, Al?" Roma smiled wryly, clearly amused.

"Ve!" Feliciano cheered from his usual perch behind Alfred, who jumped.

"However," continued Roma, "this diary does have a little flaw. You and your diary are one. Should your diary be destroyed, your future will end, as well."

Alfred's eyes widened.

"In other words, you'll die."

The American came back to the real world quickly after that, holding his diary above his head as he lay on his bed, staring up at it through his glasses.

Everything that he has seen, no, everything that he will see and write in the future, is already transcribed. A diary that indiscriminately told the future.

o

"Don't you think Jones is getting a little cocky?" a student said to his friend in a hushed voice.

"He looks a little too sure of himself, yeah." the other agreed.

Alfred walked through halls of those same scrutinizing eyes, the ones to always judge him because of how he acted. Some glared and some simply avoided him.

"It's starting to tick me off." the first grumbled, glaring as Alfred walked right past them.

The test placements were posted innocently on the wall displaying recent test scores. First place was one Alfred F. Jones, no doubt getting the answers from his diary. Not that they needed to know that. Second place was one of his classmates, Arthur Kirkland, who had transferred here from England years ago. That was no shock, though. Kirkland was always on the top ten, though that was hardly of any relevance.

"Let's teach Jones a lesson. We should jump him." a particularly angry student growled.

After school hours, that same group of boys waited on the path near the side of the school, the route Alfred took on a daily basis. They wondered where he was, as he was so far a no show.

The group had grown agitated and eventually, and thankfully, given up and gone home.

Some ways away, on a different path, smiling proudly. He referred to his diary, reading aloud to no one, "Behind the school. I was jumped by several classmates, the guys who hate my guts."

He thought of how stupid they were, to try and outsmart someone as smart and heroic as himself. He just had to make sure his future was not destroyed, easy as that. He thought of it as getting a cheat sheet to the rest of his life.

Alfred happily shut the phone, grinning, giggling, and flailing a little childishly.

'I win!' he thought, 'I seriously win at life, Dude!'

He celebrated alone for a while longer, laughing and grinning like a fool standing in the sidewalk.

o

Police lined the outskirts of the scene, rolling a fresh new roll of crime scene tape around the narrow, musty alley.

Inside, one Feliks Lukasiewicz, observed the scene with feigned interest. He had his pale blonde hair secured neatly in a ponytail, putting up a curious exterior as he looked at the scarlet stains marring the concrete walls.

Little did they know, including Toris, the detective next to Feliks, that he was certainly not an intern, nor a detective. Feliks was under cover.

'Is it her?' he thought, scowling with fierce excitement at the grotesque images on display.

He smiled devilishly, little beady green eyes becoming sly and narrow.

o

Natalia turned the page of her cheesy romance novel, popping the bubble of gum she had been absentmindedly forming.

"Ms. Arlovskaya!" cried Gilbert from the very front of the classroom, where he had been assigned, "What's up with question 3? We so didn't cover this!" he whined, just to be irritating.

"Really?" the Belarusian teacher was apathetic, "I thought we went over it the other day."

Alfred sat in his seat in the very back, pencil tacking away speedily at the papers in front of him. He observed his diary beneath the desk, as per usual, gaining all of the correct answers from his little cheat sheet. To him, it didn't matter what was on the quiz, because he simply knew the future. The American smiled happily as even his handwriting seemed to come out better than usual, and finished his quiz, the first in the class.

"Man, you're no help! So unawesome!" exclaimed Gilbert, making a show of stomping his foot under the table and glaring daggers at the innocent quiz.

Alfred smugly observed the class, smiling. 'If you're so mad,' he thought, 'Maybe you should try reading my mind! But wait, it's not that easy for you guys, huh?'

Strangely, right as he thought this, the previous braniac of the class turned his head slightly toward Alfred at that moment, his timing impeccable. The student gave Alfred a stern look over his shoulder, green eyes flashing daringly in his direction. Then he smiled a very small smile, and turned back to his quiz.

The American blinked at him, eyes widening in confusion as the student, Arthur, began to pull something out of his bag. It was a blank sheet of printer paper.

All Alfred was thinking was why Arthur had totally just given him the stink eye for no reason. I mean, he didn't even know the guy.

The Brit began sketching something quickly onto the paper, concentrating furiously at the precision of the lines and connections.

Ms. Arlovskaya blinked owlishly as the sudden change and approached his desk, her silver hair waving behind her. "Uh, Arthur, we're in the middle of a test."

"I'm exercising my brain," came the grumbled excuse, "There won't be any problems."

The instructor made an unsure noise and lingered a while as Arthur continued to sketch. Eventually she sighed and returned to her desk, grumbling at him to not get too carried away.

Alfred still gazed at the Brit, confused.

Arthur Kirkland. He was a great student, the American knew this much, and he wasn't bad looking if you could get past the fuzzy caterpillars above his eyes. He had a mixed fanbase. Some students hated him for his scathing attitude, while others looked up to him for his intellectual skills.

A few minutes later, he stopped sketching, and set his pencil down with a firm tap. Alfred could tell he was proud of whatever this drawing was, even from behind him.

It couldn't be that... he had actually done just what he thought and read his mind, right? That would be outrageous...

o

The orange light of the evening sky filled the room as Alfred stayed behind after class, even Ms. Arlovskaya absent from the classroom.

He peered at the desk in the right, front corner of the room with wide eyes, scanning the drawing on top of the flat surface. This must have been what Arthur was sketching when he was supposed to be taking his quiz.

_How... how did he...? This is..._

On the paper was a very neat and pristine drawing of Feliciano Vargas. It was only his smiling face, that familiar grin with closed eyes that was undoubtedly the pasta-loving Italian's. The unmistakable hair curl protruding from his auburn, though colorless on the drawing, hair. There was even a little "Ve~" written off to the side.

But Feliciano was just a figment of Alfred's imagination, right? So how could Arthur have known?

Alfred's shocked blue eyes viewed the drawing for several long moments, widening and shaking and just, _how?!_

He nearly jumped two feet in the air when his phone vibrated in his pocket, making an odd, distorted noise as it did so.

He lifted the device into view, thoroughly perplexed.

"_Going home. Someone is following me._

_In a construction building. I am cornered by the serial killer and murdered._

_DEAD END_."

"What does that even mean?" the American said aloud, frozen in place and still staring at the drawing, "This future isn't –"

"It's your future, naturally."

Sudden footsteps alerted Alfred to the person entering the empty room, his green eyes looking at Alfred, clearly amused. Alfred gasped a little and moved back slightly, a little shaken.

"That's your future, Alfred."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

If you were to tell him that he stuttered, he would so deny it right out.

"Just as I thought." came Arthur's reply as he advanced toward the American, slowly yet surely, staring him right in the eye. Alfred began to grow fearful at the Brit's intimidating demeanor, backing away each time he took a step forward.

He kept walking, and eventually, Alfred just bolted out of the room, remembering what his diary had said. No, he definitely had _not_ whimpered. And... and even if he had, it was a _manly _whimper, damn it!

Arthur followed the American at his own pace, keeping the neutral expression.

Alfred ran down one of the many streets in the area, at this point not caring which one, while reading his diary in shaky hands.

"_Arthur is following me._

_I ran away, but he kept following me._

_I escape into a side alley, and I think I lost him._

_I guess I'll hide in this building._

_I am cornered by the serial killer and murdered._

_DEAD END._"

He made an exasperated noise at the fact that his diary had changed yet again, and kept running despite how tired he was of it. The phone vibrated again, making that earsplitting noise.

"_In town, Arthur cuts me off._"

The American growled in frustration, stopping in his tracks and making a surprised noise as Arthur did indeed cut him off. The Brit appeared directly in front of him, panting slightly as he had apparently started to run as well.

"Stop running away, you git!"

Alfred gave no response as he quickly turned and ran back the way he came, abusing his lungs even more from the lack of rest they were receiving.

Arthur glared at his retreating back for a moment before steadily following after.

They ran through city streets, dodging people along the way who were either shocked at the running teenagers or appalled. Alfred gained the upper hand, speeding a long way ahead of the other, getting a large advantage.

_Think! What's going on? What is this?! I should be the only one who is capable of seeing Feliciano!_

He approached a towering building, not noticing the fact that the building wasn't even finishing being built yet, and that there were construction tools and parts everywhere. He bolted to the side, quickly pressing the button for the service elevator. Luckily, the door opened right when he had jammed the button, and he had quickly entered the solitude. The American teen extended his arm to hit a random floor number, and he just happened to land on 14. He dropped his bag onto the ground, leaning against the wall and repeatedly pressing the close door button, panting as he watched them do as they were told and closed.

Alfred shut his eyes for a moment in thought and rest, rubbing his temples, as if that would provide some sort of answer.

He was suddenly startled out of his reverie, though, when a shocking sound rang out. It was as like something had collided with the elevator doors at high speed, hard. His blue eyes widened in shock as he watched two pale hands fit through the tiny gap left between the elevator doors, gripping them fiercely.

With effort, the doors began to slowly creak open, the metal of them protesting such exertion and harm in creaks and groans. The first thing Alfred saw were the piercing green eyes, glaring at him in an unreadable expression. Arthur's form appeared when the doors eventually opened on their own, obeying the pursuing Brit's orders and calmly creating entrance.

Alfred staggered to the back wall, trembling, as Arthur entered the lift without uttering a single word, waiting for the door to close behind himself.

_It couldn't be..._

"Have you noticed it yet, Alfred?"

The Brit dug in his pocket, looking at Alfred sternly and producing a sleek black flip phone and holding it in front of the American.

_Another diary user?_

Arthur smiled an uncharacteristically meek smile with the sunlight reflecting off of his diary's surface, refusing to disappear as the doors remained open.. Alfred wanted to crawl into a corner and cry, because something about Arthur was just a little too intimidating for him.

_I'm dead. Oh man, I'm so dead, he's totally gonna kill me._

Unfortunately for Alfred, right as he was planning his impossible escape, the elevator doors decided to close right at that moment, removing the light of the evening sun.

Then, he suddenly remembered the darts he had used this morning. The ones that he always kept with him for good luck. Trying not to make it obvious, he sneakily grabbed at the pouch of his bag that they were secured in, looking the Brit dead in the eye in a hopeless effort to distract him.  
Alfred took a dart from the compartment, hiding it behind him with pitiful hopes, and then,  
"I don't think so."

The American froze in shock as something completely unexpected happened.

Arthur had crossed the boundaries of the cramped lift, he put his hands on the taller's shoulders, leaning up slightly to seal their lips in a completely unforeseen kiss.

Alfred's eyes were the practically the size of dinner plates, focusing on Arthur's own closed ones. He stood still, not moving an inch and not responding in any way. Perhaps out of fear. The Brit was completely still as well, most likely out of compromise.

It lasted a moment, far too long of one in the American's eyes, and eventually the elevator began to climb floors at its own pace.

Arthur pulled away gently, however still lingering near a panicked Alfred.

"You aren't going to stab me." said Arthur softly.

Alfred blinked owlishly.

Arthur continued, "You aren't going to stab me, according to your future."

He still had his diary clenched tautly in his hand.

"My... future?" mumbled Alfred rather dumbly.

Arthur chuckled and backed up a bit, giving the other much needed space. "I think you have it all wrong, Alfred." The Brit turned to the window in the lift, glaring at something below. "She's here."

Below them stood a cloaked person. They were obviously female, judging from the outlining of her body beneath the cloaks. She wore an old-fashioned gas mask, completely shielding her face and head from view, most likely to hide her identity.

The figure gazed up at the lift intently, trying to judge which floor it would land on.

"Er... who's she?"

Alfred had started to come back to reality a bit, slowly approaching the window as well.

"She's the killer from the news. The third diary user, Third."

"Third?"

"I saw that she was going to kill you by looking into your future." Arthur smiled and looked to the American, displaying his cell phone and sliding it open, revealing several diary entries dated into the future. "This is my future diary."

"_Alfred discovers my drawing, and realizes the truth._

_Alfred takes a side alley. Third is targeting him._

_Alfred dies on the 14__th__ floor._"

"In a few minutes, you die on the 14th floor of this building."

"What?" Alfred studied the diary for a moment. "All of these entries are about me."

"Indeed they are," the Brit let out a dry chuckle. "My diary is your diary. It tells me your future at ten minute intervals." He smiled sweetly, his cheeks actually tinting a little. How out of character.

_T-ten... That means, every ten minutes, this guy writes about me in his diary?What the hell?!_

_He's a crazy stalker dude!_

"So your future belongs to me." said Arthur in a hauntingly even tone as the elevator doors opened behind him. He didn't turn to them, and instead moved to press a different button on the panel. He pressed 17, the top floor, or possibly the roof. Yeah, the roof.

"H-hey! What are you – "

"Like I said earlier, if you get off on the 14th floor, you'll die." Arthur said quickly and all in one breath, leaning in close and invading Alfred's personal space again. "That would make you the first to be eliminated from the Survival Game." He held up his diary to the other, its screen reflecting in his glasses.

Alfred was forced to be backed against a wall due to Arthur's weird advances, his shoulders scrunched up in discomfort. "Survival game?" he mumbled, looking away nervously.

The Brit's breath tickled his face, sending shivers down his spine. Fearful shivers, certainly.

"All of the future diary users are trying to kill each other off. Just like she is."

Alfred blinked dumbly at the other, adjusting and fixing his glasses.

_What is he talking about?_

"You were too obvious about using your diary, Love."

_Love?_

"She must have figured out what you were doing."

The evening sun made itself known through the opening doors, signaling that they had arrived to the apparent rooftop. Everything was alighted in mixed yellows and oranges, reflecting off of metals and shining off glass.

Alfred quickly rushed past Arthur, wanting nothing more than to leave the confines of the elevator. The Brit followed at his own pace, looking strangely relaxed as he nonchalantly observed the sunset. There was a light breeze, not quite a wind or gust, but it was definitely noticeable at such a height.

"What are we supposed to do up here?" asked Alfred, hiding just how panicked and fearful he really was.

Arthur blinked as if the American had just asked why the sky was blue.

"She also has a future diary, so it wouldn't matter where we run."

The Brit yawned delicately, exasperating the American even further at this display of near boredom.

"Doesn't it feel a lot nicer up here, anyway? Much better than in some stuffy room." Arthur stretched casually, letting his eyes scan the rooftop.

_Yep, he's nuts._

It was then that Alfred resigned himself to the fate of being stuck on a rooftop with nothing but an insane Englishman and an approaching serial killer. Yeah, he was so done for.

"We'll fight him here." said Arthur, adjusting the tie he wore under his green sweater vest.

"Y-you're joking right?!" exclaimed Alfred, exasperated. The rooftop was the absolute _worst_ place for such a thing!

The Brit chuckled dryly, pointing to Alfred's bag. "I have a plan."

Alfred blinked, following Arthur's line of vision.

_My darts?_

_o_

The cloaked woman marveled at the gleam her blade gave from the light filtering in from the small windows of the lift.

Her violet eyes glared daggers at the door, urging it to arrive and open sooner.

She finally arrived at the 14th floor, silently cursing when she had realized that Alfred was not here. She checked her diary and moved to instead take the stairs, deciding that she'd rather take her own feet than such a slow contraption.

She took them two at a time, hurrying to her destination that was, according to her diary, the rooftop. She pushed on the doors for a moment, fumbling and cursing again when she realized that they weren't outward, but inward doors, and stepped onto the dimming orange glow of the rooftop. Still no sign of Alfred, but she was certain that he was up here.

She advanced forward, scanning the area for an American, or anyone at this point, really. She growled, frustrated, trying to fish out the student's hiding place.

Unbeknownst to her, Alfred sat crouched on wooden rafters, as according to Arthur's plan. He didn't know Arthur at all, for the longest time really only knowing of his existence, but really, Alfred was desperate at this point. He was being chased by a serial killer, what other choice did he have than to follow the odd Brit's plan?

The American wiped at the collecting sweat on his forehead, observing his diary continuously to watch the killer's every move.

He only had one shot. He knew from the plan to strike when she tried to use her diary.

"_The future diary is a weapon, but it's also a weakness." said Arthur, talking as if he were giving a lecture to a five year old. "Because the diary and its keeper are one."_

"Damn it," the figure growled out loud stupidly, "Where are they?!"

She ripped the phone from her coat pocket, flipping it open in a frustrated manner.

Alfred thought back to Arthur's words, realizing that, in other words, if he can destroy her diary...

He ogled excitedly as the plan sprung into action.

Arthur suddenly emerged from behind the entrance to the elevator, running heavily and purposely making a lot of noise. He darted past the famed killer, momentarily distracting her and causing her to draw her weapon pointlessly.

Alfred stood from his hiding place, his sky blue eyes immediately targeting the woman's phone. He glared in concentration, raising the dart in his hand and readying a good throw. It whizzed through the air, making a perfectly curved arc at high speeds, and, luckily, pierced a hole straight through the killer's future diary.

She gasped, shuddering as an odd pain rapidly overtook her body. She trembled, convulsing violently and dropping her diary to the concrete.

Alfred gazed with wide eyes, silently congratulating himself for actually making such a difficult shot.

The dangerous woman began to whimper in pain, gripping her own sides and she started to bend strangely. Her entire body sort of bended to the left, as if she were being turned into an arch. She cried out in pain when a peculiar hole opened up in her midsection. It turned, as if it was a vortex, spinning and making a strange current flow through the air around it.

The American hopped over the edge of the building, standing on the roof again as Arthur silently moved to join him, watching the strange convulsions the woman was going through.

Her arm twisted, literally _twisted, _as did her other arm as her entire form began to twist in agony. She shrieked breathlessly, making a small, pained sound as she seemed to implode into herself, into the vortex that had opened.

Her eyes met theirs for a moment, perhaps sparking vague familiarity, as the last of her disappeared. As she went, so did the vortex itself, leaving behind a small twister in its place. That vanished soon too, wiping at the duo with one last ominous gust of wind as all traces of the killer had disappeared. All except for her destroyed diary.

"That's it?" muttered Arthur mostly to himself, "How boring."

Alfred turned to the disappointed Brit with wide eyes. Of course, he was the type to consider what had just occurred nothing special. That really shouldn't have surprised Alfred, yet for some reason, it did.

The Brit smiled innocently Alfred's way. "Hey Alfred, we should go eat something. Your mom won't be home tonight anyhow."

Alfred said nothing to Arthur, too frightened to do so. He wondered just what he had done to get himself into this, wondered why Arthur was so... attached? Was that the right word? To him. How or why he knew so much about him.

And how often he was creeping under his bed or out his window, just watching. It made him shudder.

o

"What the hell, man?! Why are there other people with these... these... thingies!" Alfred comically gestured to his cell phone, causing the Roman and his Italian assistant to blink and look at him blankly.

"Er, Al, I don't think I ever said that you were the only one."

The American glared defiantly, stubbornly. He gripped the phone in his hands tightly.

"Calm down. I explained everything at the start." explained Roma, "This is a game. And you are our first victor, First."

"Ve!" Feliciano cheered, smiling happily at the American.

He looked at them incredulously, thoroughly puzzled.

Alfred gasped as suddenly everything became black around him. The lights of the space completely disappeared, making room for swallowing darkness. Then, it illuminated again.

Roma stood in the center of the area, smiling cheerfully and turning his head, as if to examine his surroundings. Alfred did the same, looking around to find himself on an island in the sky, of sorts. It was made of intricate, metallic machinery and mechanical parts. Scattered about the plane were 10 other figures, the shadows hiding them just right and making it impossible to identify them. All that he could make out was their eyes in the dark, and their shapes. The most likely purpose for this was to hide their identities.

The one to the right of him made an amused sound, their loud voice ringing through the stadium-like area proudly. The shadows presumed that he was tall, and had a very wild head of hair. His bright blue eyes were visible even in the shadows.

Next to him was another tall man, this one seemed rather burly and, well, tough-looking. He had intense blue eyes, and his hair was clinging to his head as if it was gelled. "So you're first." he said, having an odd accent that the American couldn't exactly place the origin of.

Somewhere else in the plain, another voice rumbled, this one another male, yet sounding far too graceful to fit the gender. "I heard the news," he purred, "you eliminated that serial killer."

Something told the frightened American that these people had diaries, too, and that they were part of this little sadistic game as well. He eyed the others, or what he could of them, intently, and counted 10 in all apart from himself and an empty space. Until his eyes landed on the one directly to his left, and those acidic green eyes he got to know all too recently stared back at him under a messy crown of hair. Hell, he could even see the guy's eyebrows in this lighting. He knew that it was Arthur.

"Now that everyone is here, I'm going to name this little game of mine." said Roma, excitedly. "There are your diaries. They're known as future diaries."

The group all pulled their phones simultaneously, observing them as if they hadn't already.

"Originally, they were just normal diaries, but time has been distorted, so you can read entries written up to 90 days into the future –"

"May I interrupt for a moment?"

All eyes turned toward the tall man with the blue eyes and slicked back hair. One could not tell of his intentions in this horrid lighting.

"What is it?"

"I have seen this diary rewrite itself many times. Care to explain?"

"Oh, yeah. The future will change according to your actions. Example, say the diary tells you that a future accident will hurt you."

Feliciano pulled a sketch pad out of seemingly nowhere, excitedly drawing something onto it as the Roman god spoke. He held it up after a minute, displaying a hurried stick figure wearing crutches and limping somewhere. It was silly.

"When the time comes," continued Roma, "you will act to prevent this, changing both the outcome and the future."

The little Italian drew again, though this one was vague. It showed the same stick figure grinning happily next to the injured one, a little bent arrow pointing to it as if to represent a change in outcomes.

"By avoiding the accident, you won't get hurt, so your future will change and so will the entries."

Alfred boldly raised his hand, keeping it in the air determinedly.

"Er, yes, First?" Roma almost laughed at the childish display.

"I didn't do anything, and my diary changed a lot. It said that Third would kill me."

"You aren't the only one who can change your future. That's exactly what makes this a survival game. Once it is set that one diary user will kill another, a death sentence is passed. That will trigger a 'dead end' warning."

"So we are to kill each other," rang a polite voice, "but we do not know what anyone looks like, correct?" This person had chocolate brown eyes, and was rather small in stature. Their voice was masculine, but very soothing and soft, and they had a little trouble pronouncing their L's.

"Correct. You have to use the info your diary gives you to figure out who your opponents are."

Next to the man with chocolate eyes was a smaller form. Clearly a child. "So the first step in this game is finding out who you're up against?" The boy had an accent similar to Arthur's. His eyes were blue, the same shade as the deep sea. He wore a very large yet adorable sailor hat atop his head.

"Once your identity is known, you'll most likely be killed." replied Roma. "Identify your enemies and attempt to trigger their dead end warnings. Should you receive a warning, do what you can to avoid that end. That's how the survival game works."

The Roman paused for a moment, turning to the American.

"First!" he called suddenly.

Alfred stepped back slightly, alarmed.

"You were meant to die back there. However, you turned the tables, and eliminated the killer. It was an absolute miracle! If he can do this, First may be able to kill everyone else and survive. I suspect that you are to win, and I place my bets on you."

The group awed at him, amazed that he was able to revert time and destiny itself in order to survive. And yet, Alfred knew all too well that he hadn't killed Third. Oh no, he never would have done such a thing on his own.

He's never wanted to kill anyone before in his life. He wasn't the one who made that miracle happen at all.

Alfred's wide eyes turned to the green ones close by, the ones that had been staring him down throughout the entire meeting. The green eyes that had caused that miracle.

Arthur smiled wanly to the American, barely visible in this light, and Alfred felt that he might be sick. It sent a horrid chill up his spine.

"So, the last person standing," began Roma, gathering attention again, "will succeed me as the god who rules time and space. Only eleven of you remain. Kill before you're killed, and win the throne of God."

There was an uproar of applause from the group, and it frightened the American to the very core. These people actually _wanted_ to kill others? They would do anything for the throne of God? That was simply outrageous! It was awful! It was... it was unheroic!

The person to the right, the one with wild hair, laughed maliciously again. "Which means that the biggest problem is..." he faded away in static, gone from the stadium.

Another continued his line, though. His violet eyes hidden behind glasses, a sophisticated air radiated from him. "First." he said quietly, fixing his the spectacles as they slid down his nose. Soon, he faded, too, and nothing was left in his space.  
Alfred blinked, unused to all of the attention.

The man with blue eyes and slicked back hair seemed almost sympathetic. "Have a nice day, First." he said, taking of his cap and forming an odd salute.

The next person had shoulder length hair and beady green eyes. His voice was masculine, yes, but he seemed to be wearing some kind of, well, dress.

"Like, if you die before I come for you, I'll totally kill you again!" Soon he/she/gender-neutral thing faded too.

Finally, a feminine voice emerged. She had long, flowy hair, and soothing olive green eyes. "Good luck, First." she wished him delicately, bowing slightly. And was she holding a frying pan? He couldn't tell, as she too faded along with the others.

"Wait..." Alfred panicked. All of these people would be trying to kill him. They would all come after him, surely, when he least expected it. He knew it. He could sense it.

"I can see your fear, First-san." The man with chocolate eyes said, fading too.

"Dealing with someone like you will be a hassle." complained the man with the graceful voice from before. He flipped his shoulder length wavy hair, shining his deep blue eyes.

"H-hey," argued Alfred pathetically, "you guys have it all wrong, it wasn't even me..."

None listened, and now only a few of the group were left.

"Fear not," said a new voice. Amber eyes shined his direction. The petite man smiled kindly Alfred's way. "I am on your side, aru."

The child from earlier sighed mirthlessly, gazing at the American cruelly. "You poor thing..."

They both faded too, and soon enough, he was left with Roma.

"That concludes this meeting." The Roman sounded so uncharacteristically heartless. He sat in his throne apathetically with a cheery Feliciano by his side, and now, that smile was sickening.

And then, Alfred was all alone, in that golden room he was so used to, no longer on the island where the meeting took place.

He sank to his knees, overwhelmed in fear, as he shook violently. Soon enough, he would be a target for all of those people. He was their primary focus. It was bad enough being part of this to begin with, but to be the main prize, that was awful.

He'd have to face it all alone.

He was all alone now, or so he thought.

"It's okay."

The American startled at the voice, not daring to face who he knew it was. He merely kept his eyes fixated on the wall in front of him, terrified, and wishing that the Brit would just leave him alone already in his misery.

His wishes were cut short, though, when a cold pair of arms shakily wrapped around his middle from behind.

Alfred finally turned his head to the side to find a fuzzy blonde head buried into his back. The Brit was shaking lightly, but oddly it wasn't a tremble of fear. He seemed almost giddy.

"It's okay," repeated Arthur, "I'll keep you safe. Okay?"

The American didn't reply, only kept still, transfixed on the fear within him. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to go home and cry. But mostly, he just wanted to have never been a part of this horrible survival game.

o

**OMAKE**

"Ve! Third, you've been chosen as one of the twelve diary keepers!" said Feliciano cheerfully. He smiled at the woman innocently, holding out her own phone to her.

The little Italian had appeared very suddenly, though, and hadn't even noticed where he was. He had just gotten the info from Roma on her whereabouts and followed the instructions, quite literally running to her location.

He blinked.

A bloodied corpse was sprawled out on the ground, and the killer, she blinked at him with wide eyes, taking a moment to process what the hell just happened. As fresh blood dripped from her blade, she understood, well, _something _in that head of hers.

"V-ve..."

"An eyewitness." growled Third.

"Y-yes?"

"You won't leave here alive."

She charged at Feliciano, slashing her blade about in relentless strikes. He made a small noise and shielded himself with his arms, one of which happened to be holding her cell phone, or future diary, which she had just sliced in half.

She had just slashed her own diary without even knowing what it was.

Feliciano blinked, surprised, as she convulsed and disappeared all on her own accord.

He laughed dryly, exasperated, scratching his head as her blade dropped to the ground and she was gone.

o

"Ve, just listen!" the Italian tried for the umpteenth time, looking the serial killer straight in the eyes. He had to turn back time, all for her sake. Feliciano wasn't one to be rude at all, but really, she obviously was not the sharpest crayon in the box.

"You killed yourself before the game even started!" he held up the newly repaired phone, "This is the, uh, m-murder log you've been keeping, right? I borrowed it and did some tinkering."

Third snapped out of her reverie finally, blinking to life and registering what was happening finally.

"Wh-why do you have that?!" she stuttered.

Before Feliciano could even get a word in, she snatched the device from his hands and snapped it in half with her own.

She trembled and convulsed yet again, falling into a fit of tremors and she erupted into a twister and disappeared.

Again.

Feli facepalmed. "Ve, just listen..."

o

Roma laughed heartily as he watched the scene play out on his screen. This was going to be a fun game indeed.

He supposed Third's fate was to be the first loser, anyway.

**AN: ASDFGHKFHS THIS TOOK SO LONG.**

**Anyway, I apologize for how slow I update. School is a real bugger. I'll probably get it around to once a week in the summer, hopefully, since I have no life and I like not having one.**

**I apologize at the horrid amount of OOC. I sincerely do. I was trying to make it fit, and yes, it is pretty much a carbon copy of Mirai Nikki in Hetalia form.**

**Now I'm writing this before I correct its mistakes, so I must do so now.**

**I'm back from correcting. Does it seem ruched to you? It does to me...**

**Hm.**


	3. Contract Terms

**AN: Wow. I wrote an assload of this and OpenOffice decided to stop responding. Fecking hell I was mad. Anyway, here we go again.**

**I do not own Mirai Nikki or Hetalia.**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed! I love you all! :'D **

**CONTRACT TERMS**

o

The phone vibrated in the shaken American's pocket again that night, making him pause his game of zombie slaying to glare at the device.

That was the fortieth time Arthur had sent him a text message. Heck, Alfred didn't even give the Brit any information about himself, let alone his cell number.

After a brief moment of silence, it vibrated yet again with a cheerful alighted screen.

Alfred concluded that Arthur had to be stalking him, it was the only explanation. For all he knew, the green-eyed psychopath could be closer than he first thought. Perhaps he was even right outside his door at this very moment.

That thought was dismissed quickly, as the American recalled the earlier events of that day. Arthur's diary would record everything Alfred was doing at ten minute intervals, and everything that he would do in the future. It was a diary of twisted, forced obsession. That would mean that the Brit would already know what he was doing, and would not need to be within range. But still, the fact remained that he sent chills down Alfred's spine with those dangerous acidic green eyes.

Unbeknownst to Alfred, said Brit was curled up on his own sofa in the comfort of his home, wearing a comfortable sweater and sipping tea. He smiled tenderly as he pressed the send button yet again.

O

Birds chirped happily as they greeted the morning sun. The day looked to be a bright one when the trees swayed in a happy tune and the pavements sparkled with condensation.

Alfred mulled over what his previously dull life had become while he trudged his way to school, desperately wishing he could just skip the day.

He didn't want to leave the comfort of home, knowing that twelve, no, eleven people were trying to kill him. Ten minus Arthur, whose motives were very questionable.

Apparently, the last player standing in this 'survival game' would take Roma's place and become a god.

He was also feeling guilty over the fact that he had killed another human being. Third, whom Alfred still did not know the identity of, lost their life yesterday. They were a ruthless murderer, but still, the fact remained that the American simply would not wish ill fate on anyone. He was too set upon the good things in his own life to want to cause problems in the lives of others, yet he had killed someone yesterday. He hadn't even realized what he was doing, he was just following Arthur's plan.

Then again, it may have been a little stupid of him to follow the plan of his deranged stalker. However, if he hadn't, he would have been killed by Third.

It was an act of self defense, nothing more, nothing less.

Alfred dropped into the seat of his desk, sighing and cradling his head in his hands. He really, really did not want to be in public today.

His teacher, Ms. Natalia Arlovskaya, was absent. The substitute did not know of her whereabouts or condition. He began to read the names off of his attendance sheet, leaving the students to their own thoughts.

Alfred knew that keeping his diary around would prove to be dangerous, but what else could he do? If he left it somewhere, someone might find it and who knows what would happen then. If he simply threw it out, it would be destroyed along with his life. Was there anyone he could ask about this? No, there wasn't. He hadn't spoken to Roma since yesterday, and he didn't plan to any more than necessary.

The American eyed Arthur's back from across the room. He sat up straight and attentive in his desk, always one to look proper in the strangest situations.

Maybe he could ask Arthur?

No, that was definitely out of the question, you should not communicate with you stalker unless it's to file a restraining order...

But then again, he probably knew a few things Alfred didn't.

O

Bells chimed dully to signal the end of class. Students gathered their things and stood, chatting with their friends as they made their way to the exit of the room. The substitute teacher began rifling for the role call for next period, grumbling as he did so.

Arthur lagged behind, jamming a few notebooks into his book bag with frustrated haste. He stood as well, saying nothing and moving to leave the classroom for the next hour.

Alfred approached nervously, willing away the nervous sweat that gathered.

"H-hey, Artie..." Oh great, he was so nervous he was giving the guy pet names. What a great way of giving him false ideas. "Do you have a minute?"

Arthur turned to face Alfred, obviously a little surprised.

"It's Arthur. Sorry, I have gym right now," he almost left Alfred without saying another word, but with hesitation he turned around again with narrowed eyes. "I'll make time for you later, alright?"

And with that, he left the classroom and Alfred. The American sighed mirthlessly, and he began to wonder just what answers he was expecting to get anyhow. Of course there was no way out of something as big as this. It wasn't as if one could simply dismiss this as a scam, and obviously people really were trying to kill him. You don't just back out of that. He mentally slapped himself for his own stupidity, then startled with a quiet knock on the classroom door. Whoever it was did not wait for an answer, and they opened it. Beady little green eyes lit up when they saw the American.

"Oh, sorry. But like, can you help me?"

This girl had neat, shiny blonde hair pulled into bouncy pigtails with lacy ribbons. A frilly headband was atop her head, tied in the back neatly and primly. She also wore a silky dress that reached about to her knees, and it splayed away from her as if it was supported underneath. The fabric around her shoulders was puffed, dragged up with lacy ribbons that appeared everywhere on the design.

She entered the classroom, her beady eyes watching Alfred innocently.

And then he noticed the hair on her legs. At first, he had thought it was nothing more than some, well, preference she chose. Then there was the fact that her chest was as flat as a plank of wood, and the build of her face was rather masculine.

Okay, so this _guy _wore a frilly dress. This day just kept getting weirder.

"Which was is the... um... like, the faculty office?" He apparently had a very noticeable valley girl accent. "I have some questions about your teacher, Ms. Arlo-something."

The American nodded, thinking he, she, whatever gender neutral thing, was probably going to give some info on his teacher's whereabouts.

"She's your homeroom teacher, right?" the frilly man continued, "I have information that she's the serial killer. Totes weird, yeah?"

Alfred's eyes widened considerably.

In the gym locker room, Arthur nearly tripped over his own footing as his diary made that distorted noise, signaling that his, no, Alfred'sfuture had been changed. He narrowed his eyes and hurriedly dressed into his gym shirt.

Alfred's shock was apparent as the strange man entered his classroom fully, standing a few yards away.

"By the way, I've heard you're getting better in school. Like, awesome in the testing department."

What, was everyone stalking him now?

"You're acting like a different person, too, I hear. And your teacher isn't here today, right?" he advanced to the shocked American, who backed up the closer he got. Honestly, was everyone having this approach nowadays?

"I bet you totally didn't know that the serial killer," he paused, smiling wickedly, "is dead?"

The American knew that this person knew something, he had to. He must have known something about the events of yesterday, and his involvement in Third's murder. He also said that the serial killer, Third, was Natalia. Would that mean that he and Arthur had killed their own teacher?

"Her future diary was the Murder Diary." Yes, he definitely knew something. "She totally caught First, but then got herself killed. Yeah, Natalia Arlovskaya was Third. I bet you're totally surprised, right?"

Alfred remembered looking into the vague familiarity of Third's eyes as she faded into nothing, the way she glared at him in fear. The violet of her eyes was an uncanny match to that of his homeroom teacher. She looked about the same height, too. The American had no more room to back away from this frightening person, his back hit the wall and he was rooted in place by two desks on either side and a the cross-dresser in front of him.

With the swiftness of an experienced thief, he gripped Alfred's hand, the one that was holding his phone. "That's a nice cell phone."

The American jerked away on instinct of fear and knowing that this person was involved in the survival game.

"You're totally him." the one in the frilly dress snickered, "You're First, Alfred F. Jones."

The man was laughing loudly now, scaring Alfred even more than he already was. The rippling sound of his future changing filled the room, the phone vibrating as it emitted the distorted drawl.

"_There are explosions in the school._

_I am killed by Ninth._

_Dead End."_

Alfred wanted to whimper at the sight of his own dead end flag. Once this was triggered, he had a death sentence, and it didn't look like it would change considering his cornered position.

He gasped instead when Arthur burst into the room, wielding a shiny red fire extinguisher while wearing green shorts and a white T-shirt, his gym clothes. The Brit ran to the strange man, swinging the heavy extinguisher in an effort to knock him in the head. The beady-eyed man dodged easily, though this gave Alfred the opportunity to escape his little corner.

The dress wearing man ended up a comfortable distance away, and Arthur gripped the sleeve of Alfred's jacket in his most likely strange form of protectiveness. It was almost comical how silent the American had been throughout the entire endeavor.

"I've, like, already triggered your dead end." said the frilly blonde, expertly kneeling on the sill of an open window. "I'm the ninth keeper, Feliks Lukasiewicz!" he exclaimed proudly, "I'm so not as weak as that Third chick, by the way." he chuckled in his own dry humor.

With that, he dropped out of the window. It was still odd how he did so, considering this was the second floor, but this guy could obviously do some pretty weird stuff. Without thinking, Arthur ran again, dragging Alfred out of the classroom at record speed. They barely made it in time as every room in that hallway suddenly burst into flames, sending shock-waves throughout the entire building. They exploded noisily, and object flew everywhere from the open doors, along with thick, gray smoke. The terrified screams of their fellow students were deafening.

The force had sent the two flying against the adjacent wall, and Arthur had protectively looped his arms around the American's neck, somewhat blocking flying debris. They landed unceremoniously on the floor, Alfred against the wall with Arthur nearly pinning him there.

His blue eyes widened at the sight of everything in flames and ruin. He hadn't even noticed his close proximity to the Brit practically on his lap. Shocked, cowardly tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, and he remembered that his own dead end warning would happen in approximately three hours. The Brit sensed his worry and moved away from Alfred, but still remained close with his hands on the American's shoulders.

"It will be alright." he murmured, "I'll just kill him for you."

Well _that _was a comfort! How could Arthur just talk about killing people like it was no big deal? It honestly frightened Alfred a little more than the explosions.

"I'll do it. For you, that is."

Though it made more sense now, it was still clear that the Brit was not in his right mind. It was still a mystery to him why he burst into his life so suddenly.

This was not the time to think about that, he realized. Arthur was leaning in too close for his boundaries again, as if it were a completely normal thing to do.

The Brit's green eyes seemed less acidic at that moment, and more of a shining emerald as he got closer and closer. It was implied that he would do anything for Alfred. At this rate, the American knew that he would die.

He looked into those bright eyes and thought that maybe, just for now, he could rely on Arthur. Not to the point of fondness, he decided. He would merely use the Brit's willingness to protect him to his advantage.

Arthur was barely an inch away from his face now.

"Artie?" Alfred croaked hoarsely. He hadn't even realized that he's used the pet name, nor did he care in the harsh glow of dancing flames. "Can you... protect me?" he whispered reluctantly.

The Brit nodded mutely as he gazed into wide, tear-rimmed blue eyes. The eyes of an innocent child who needed protection. They shined like precious sapphires illuminated by distant orange light from the steady fires. His face was dusted pink as he advanced, shutting his eyes and kissing the American for the second time. It was innocent, and halfheartedly returned on Alfred's part, but Arthur was simply ecstatic.

The American thought that this was only necessary for his survival, nothing more.

O

"Hey!" Feliks spoke into a megaphone he had brought just for dynamics, his voice screamed at the entire school, "All you guys who are, like, still alive up there!"

Smoke bellowed from the flames into the blue, clear sky. Students fearfully crowded together, absolutely terrified that there would be a bomb inside their classroom like the others. They trembled at the sound of the terrorist's voice.

"This school has totally been taken over by me! Feliks Lukasiewicz!"

He held a small control panel, most likely designed to detonate bombs whenever he pleased. His diary was tucked neatly in a pocket near the collar of his dress, and to the students, it was just an ordinary cell phone.

"I have more bombs everywhere in the building, and they're equipped with motion sensors. If you don't want to, like, explode, stay in your classrooms. The entire student body is my hostage!"

Feliks smiled that strange smile of his, laughing dynamically at nothing. He was certainly an odd one. An odd, yet very dangerous individual.

Arthur and Alfred had moved the moment they heard Feliks' blaring voice. They were crouched beneath the windows, crawling carefully do avoid visual detection as well as detection by motion sensor. Alfred would constantly check his diary, predicting where the next explosion would happen and where. He worriedly watched at his dead end flag stayed in place.

Arthur, on the other hand, was mulling over his own thoughts. He briefly glanced behind him at his trembling counterpart, remembering what had happened a few moment prior. When he had kissed Alfred, he had kissed back. That he was certain of, and it had to mean something, right? Maybe he had more hope than he previously thought.

The American noticed the other watching him, and offered a shaky, nervous smile.

"Let's just keep going, Artie."

Arthur immediately turned away and flushed in embarrassment that Alfred had caught him staring. He furrowed his large eyebrows and concentrated on a sliver of wood lying on the floor in front of him. Yes, he absolutely had hope, if that constant nickname was anything to go by. The way Alfred already used terms of endearment was not exactly what he was expecting. Even so, he just had to protect the helpless American, no matter what.

Steeling himself, he sat back against the wall below the broken windows, Alfred following. Arthur picked up a discarded shard of glass and discreetly raised it into the opening of the window, using it as a makeshift mirror. He was Feliks, standing proudly on the ground and idle at the moment. The opposite wing of the building was visible as well, and the duo could clearly see the frightened faces of other students peeking out of the still intact windows. It seemed that only this wing was hit.

"Everyone's in the other building. I don't think they can leave."

They had eventually found themselves at the top of a set of stairs. Alfred had abruptly stopped when he noticed a recent entry on his diary.

"_We're trapped on the stairwell landing."_

"The stairs blow up under us." he reads aloud. Alfred glared at the stairs, as if this would make the bomb go away.

"We can't take this route, then." replied Arthur, "Let's just find a different path."

He turned again, still hanging low beneath the buildings to not be seen by anybody. Alfred followed closely, silently willing the shakes and trembles to leave his body. His eyes widened as his phone made the distorted sound, signaling a change in his future. Arthur's made the same sound, but that only repeated Alfred's change.

"_We avoid the stairs and continue down the hall._

_The 3F hall is decimated. I see no survivors._

_The 3F hall is strewn with dead._

_Outside the restrooms it looks okay."_

"Your diary is especially useful because it provides so much information." supplied Arthur, "It's indiscriminate, and it records everything around you. You should be able to use it to monitor Ninth's movements."

The phone chimed again, and they both bristled in concern. The fact that they had not done anything other than sit in the hall suggests that Ninth had caused this. When Ninth, Feliks, changes his future, he also changes theirs.

"_On 3F, a bomb in classroom 2C is remotely detonated._

_There is another explosion down the hall. He must be trying to guess our location."_

He barely has time to warn Arthur.

"B-bomb, uh... 2C."

The Brit quickly glances upward and gains a panicked look in his acidic eyes. Without thinking, he lurches forward and brings Alfred with them as far from the door as they can. It had just so happened that the door they were near was 2C.

Alfred's back hit the ground with a painful thud and Arthur's weight on top of him, but he didn't notice enough to feel it as everything abruptly burst into explosions of orange and gray. Luckily, they had landed just the right amount away to only be blown back a few feet. Arthur's hold on the American tightened when the force threatened to send them spiraling away.

The chaos died down a bit, and panicked Arthur sat up quickly.

"Alfred, read the next entry!"

He didn't think, holding his phone in his line of vision mechanically once again.

"The next explosion is down the hall!" he exclaimed.

Arthur stands, dragging Alfred with him as he sprints to the nearest flight of stairs and away from the explosive hall. The stairs lead upward, and they cover about three quarters of the steps before another explosion quakes behind them. They didn't even receive a scratch from that one.

Alfred's mind is frozen in amazement. Arthur's analysis was absolutely perfect. He moved them away from the harm at the exact time that was needed.

Explosions from random points in the building rattled. Feliks was jotting wildly at his control panel, hitting every button he possible could at record speeds. He was pleased to know that he had First panicked and on the run. Feliks smiled to himself as he continued tapping away at the keys.

Arthur and Alfred hid behind a corner when one of the washrooms erupted into flames, sending debris flying past them in a clear path.

As soon as the wreckage died down, Arthur quickly led the way, standing and sprinting away from the area. Alfred selfishly knew he was right to depend on him, for he was absolutely genius when it came to avoiding disaster. He felt safe for a moment, thinking that it would be easy as long as he remained with him. That is, until an bomb sets off too close for comfort directly behind him, nearly sending him flying to the opposite end of the hall. He becomes fearful again, somewhat doubting their fates.

They had wormed their way through a large hole in the floor, climbing down on rubble and bricks. Arthur expertly leaped to the bottom, while Alfred awkwardly stumbled and climbed, not paying attention to his diary but instead focusing on getting down.

"What's next, Alfred?" Arthur asked as he stood still in a moment of rest at the bottom of the rubble.

Before he can even check his diary or say something, a wayward bomb is sprung directly behind him, sending him flying with a cry of alarm. He crashed onto the floor painfully, shaking more as he tried getting to his feet.

Alarmed, Arthur stumbles to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked feverishly.

"I'm okay..." the American grounds out.

"Alfred, don't just concentrate on where they're going to happen, you need to worry about what they;ll do to you, too!"

"Wha- me?" he quickly scans his diary again, coming up with a blank about himself. He was still as he cursed his own personality.

"What's wrong?" Arthur blinked, confused at the other's pause.

"I never really cared what happened to me. I just wrote about what would happen around me, or to the people around me. This diary doesn't even say anything about me."

Arthur's phone made a distorted vibrating noise again, and he barely glanced down before his eyes widened and everything exploded around them.

Outside, Feliks smirked to himself as the corridor erupts into flames. He was proud of himself for causing such destruction, but was at the same time disappointed that First was still alive and moving.

The green-eyed Brit had tackled Alfred out of the way yet again, landing him painfully on his back. Of course, that was better than being blown to bits by the explosions. Arthur had taken the brunt of the damage yet again. He shakily sat up, hissing and wincing in the progress. The American looked up at him with wide eyes and perhaps a little bit of worry.

"I've always been watching," the Englishman murmured as he sat up completely. "You diary may have nothing about you, but mine does. Between my diary and yours, we'll know everything that will happen around us. We'll be okay. We won't die, you won't die. You'll survive. Just use me like you had planned to."

He smiled at the taller mirthlessly, whose eyes widened. It had been embarrassing for Alfred to have his selfish and cowardly plans revealed. He felt bad about using Arthur, but he couldn't help it. He had never been in such a situation before and Arthur seemed willing to protect him. He knew he was acting pathetic. His sudden depression must have showed, for Arthur sighed and stood, offering a hand to Alfred.

"We still have half an hour until your dead end is supposed to happen. Let's just try to make our way to the other building. There will be other people there, and if they have any sense about them, they'll help us."

The other building was filled with surviving students and teachers, all watching the explosives trigger worriedly. It wasn't the best choice to go there, after all, they could just escape to the outside. But how could they be certain there weren't explosives planted out there? So far, there was nothing in the other building, and with the amount of people inside who hadn't been killed yet, it was likely the building was safe. Feliks had been dubbed by them as the type that would kill others for seemingly no reason. Why hadn't he killed Alfred already? He certainly had the chances and the equipment to. Perhaps it was just to watch the world burn.

Alfred took the offered hand, standing a reasonable number of inches taller than Arthur.

O

The red lights shone furiously and the sirens blared impossibly loud. More cops and police cars arrived at the scene minutely, rushing in hopes of doing something they couldn't. This was a hostage situation with explosives involved. If they even approached, the well known terrorist might just blow up the entire neighborhood. Detective Toris Laurinaitis tapped lightly on the door to his chief's vehicle.

"Chief, snipers are in position."

"Call them off, aru." The chief rolled down his window only a margin, enough to hear what Toris was saying. The detective blinked his seafoam green eyes owlishly.

"Why...? This is Feliks Lukasiewicz we're dealing with! Do you just want to let a terrorist have his way?"

Chief glared amber daggers at the detective behind dark sunglasses. He wore a neutral expression through and through. He tapped at his phone. "Feliks is too smart, detective. Even if he doesn't look the part."

"_Snipers are in position._

_The snipers open fire. Feliks Lukasiewicz is killed._

_Bombs detonate, leaving the school awash in flames._

_Rescue crews attempt to extinguish fires, prioritizing the search for survivors._

_The fires still burn out of control. There will be heavy casualties. Only a handful of survivors has been found."_

The ebony-haired chief eyes the phone warily.

"The bombs are programmed to detonate if Feliks' heart stops. He has turned himself into a traitor, aru."

"T-that's insane..." Toris replied meekly.

The chief simple nodded his head, his eyes smiling behind strong shades.

O

The two blondes were once again crouching beneath windows, this time more relaxed than the last. They had made it to the other building, and the unbroken windows were a sight for sore eyes. They would be getting help from their peers shortly. Alfred was planning on explaining the entire predicament, but was having trouble with a plan to get them to believe him in the first place. He thought that three, four, or even five heads were certainly better than just one in this situation.

Behind, Arthur sensed that something was definitely amiss. The quiet was worrying. He had predicted hearing the panicked voices, or perhaps hushed whispers of others. But it was completely silent. He puffed a worried breath.

"_Alfred is moving slowly._

_He's crossing to the other building, and we have to find other people._

_He and I made it safely to the other building._

_We found the others."_

His diary had seemed fine and optimistic, and he knew that he was supposed to trust it of all things, but he just had an inkling that something was horribly wrong.

When they rounded a corner Alfred's eyes lit up instantly. He grinned at the familiar sight of his friend, er, _acquaintance, _happily. Arthur noticed this and moved to get a look as well.

Gilbert seemed to notice a presence. He turned, eying them with horrified scarlet irises. Alfred jogged to him excitedly, while Arthur stayed back and worried. The students were ordered to stay in their classrooms, so what was he doing here? Why was he walking around?

Gilbert furrowed his eyes and advanced to them quickly, stumbling once and again in an almost paranoid fashion.

Arthur's diary was alerted of a change with the distorted noise.

He gasped as he was dragged from the ground and pulled back away from Alfred. The American was swiftly and painfully forced to the ground by Gilbert, pinned in place and unable to move.

Arthur growled at the burly students holding him away from the American to let him go, but they didn't listen, and they all had the same horrified look in their eyes.

Earlier, Feliks had stated through the megaphone that he was looking for a certain student. A student who goes by the name of Alfred F. Jones. He promised that he would disable the sensors for a while so the students wold be able to look for him. He said that id Alfred was handed over, he's promise no more needless death. They were ordered to restrain him and confiscate his cell phone, and to also restrain the other boy with him.

Eventually, Alfred had stopped struggling and was quickly dragged outside to the awaiting Feliks. Arthur was kept inside the building, struggling all the while. This was a problem as he had basically served as a bodyguard (human shield) for the past few hours, and now he would not be there when Alfred needed him most. The American was definitely not equipped to face an unstable terrorist alone. The Brit struggled and griped, but the burly students were far too strong for his lithe form, so he had taken to worriedly watching out the window.

Alfred landed on the dirt ground weakly. He didn't look like he was going anywhere, but a paranoid Gilbert held him down all the while.

"I hate you," murmured Al. "I hate all of you."

The albino was the only one to hear it, and he didn't reply a word.

Smirking, Feliks proudly spoke through that obnoxiously loud megaphone again. "You don't want to move. We're totally standing in my amazing minefield. You move, you blow up."

It was unclear exactly hownobody had noticed this obviously suspicious person setting up a _minefield _in the middle of the school's courtyard, but Feliks was obviously full of surprises.

"I turned the motion sensors back on. You guys inside really shouldn't move either. If you try to leave, you explode."

Arthur observed the room he was trapped in. Almost every student was hysterical, or nearly in tears. They were worried that they would be blown to smithereens in a single footstep. They were only worried about themselves, not the fact that one of their companions was being ransomed outside. He had clearly made a huge mistake in telling Alfred to trust them. He glared daggers at them, though the two restraining him didn't even notice. These people were the worst. How could they just give up someone like that?

Outside, Feliks finally stopped speaking through the blaring megaphone. He readied the control panel, planning to just get First over and done with.

Arthur panicked and bit his lower lip, nearly drawing blood. He gazed at the limp American and tears threatened to spill from his vibrant green eyes. He couldn't have come so far for nothing. He recalled the single light of hope that was Alfred returning his kiss, and steeled himself for what he was about to do.

Feliks gasped as his bombs suddenly sprung to life one by one, all in a row. The agonized screams of students filled the air deafeningly. Alfred looked up shakily in his pathetic state.

Another scream filled the air. This one wasn't in agony or fear, but in rage.

"_I hope all of you just die!_" Arthur shrieked. He sprinted down the hall toward the exit. A plethora of bombs exploded behind him, all far too close to him for comfort, but he didn't care, he just had to run fast enough.

Gilbert panicked and released Alfred from his painful restraint, running away in the opposite direction of the minefield, completely unharmed.

Alfred sat up, too shocked to say anything at all. It was Arthur doing this, it had to be.

Feliks mirrored his expression, completely speechless. However, Feliks didn't even know what was happening.

At a distance, the police panicked. The school was now completely erupted into flames, most likely leaving little to no survivors. Toris shook, not saying anything for a moment, Finally, he quickly turned.

"Chief Yao!" he called.

The Chinese man emerged from his car, pocketing his phone.

"I know. Let's make our move, aru."

Alfred shook his head wildly in an attempt to stop the furious Brit, but it had no effect as he certainly could not stop to look. He may have hated them, yes, but the last thing he would do was wish death upon anyone. There was also the fact that everyone who had silently acknowledged his existence for years, the ones who had tried to reach him when he was small, they were all dying and dead now. He had given up long ago, was this horrible and pointless effort really worth it?

He turned at the sound of an exasperated chuckled from Feliks.

"Don't worry, I guess you're not the only one dying today. Besides, all the bombs would, like, detonate in ten minutes anyway. It's all gonna go boom, in a grand finale...!"

Feliks was interrupted suddenly as a bullet whizzed pas him, pulling some of his fine blonde hair with him. Explosions were still sounding overhead which increased chaos dynamically.

"Don't you get too excited, aru."

Chief Yao Wang sauntered into the scene, stopping alongside a trembling Al.

"First, aru." he acknowledged.

"Wh-who... are you?" Alfred whispered hoarsely.

Yao's amber eyes smiled behind his sunglasses, though he did not grin. "I said earlier that I would protect you, aru."

He referred to the meeting with Roma.

"Wow, like, took a while much, Fourth?" Feliks said in dry humor, popping out his hip casually and simpered.

Yao scoffed. "It's not very nice to pick on kids, Ninth." he turned back to a uselessly startled Alfred, "I will make this short, he isn't after you, aru. He after me. My diary is the case diary."

He took the purple phone from his pocket, displaying its screen.

"_Had meeting to review the serial murder suspects. Natalia Arlovskaya is the prime suspect. Two detectives are assigned to watch her._

_Police have reason to believe that Feliks Lukasiewicz is hiding nearby._

_Toris and another detective assigned to canvas around the school._

_Another meeting. Have determined that Natalia Arlovskaya lacks an alibi. Will continue monitoring her."_

He shut the phone and pocketed it again, still holding a handgun in his other hand.

"I am not interested in the throne of God. I just won't allow any homicides, aru."

"Uuuum," The loud voice of Feliks rang out, "I don't know what you two are, like, discussing, so can I make some demands?"

Nothing was said. Not even from the few survivors inside the building. Explosions had stopped, suggesting that Arthur had stopped moving. The reason was unclear.

"I'll just take your silence to mean yes," he paused for effect then grinned wickedly, "Kill First, then kill yourself, Fourth!"

Yao's eyes narrowed.

Feliks continued, "I'll so win this game and be God! A cop who knows the future will only get in my way!"

"Aiya, you can't expect me to accept–"

"Then everyone goes, like, boom!" He held the control panel proudly.

Yao glared, holding the gun steady the terrorist's way. He gave a meaningful sidelong glance to Alfred, who smiled thankfully in return.

This was short-lived as the barrel of a gun swiftly pointed to his forehead. He whimpered, unused to such things.

"I'm sorry, First, but the circumstances have changed, aru. This is the choice I had to make."

Alfred could have burst into tears at that moment. He only laughed shakily and without mirth, eying the gun pointed directly at him.

Yao arched an eyebrow.

It was just that Al had known he'd die from this all along. He couldn't do anything for himself at that point in time. He had just used Arthur to save himself, who was not most likely dead inside the building, as the explosions had stopped a while ago. It would only make sense for Alfred to die like this, and he knew that.

He glared icy blue daggers behind crooked glasses at Yao and the gun. "Just don't let it be meaningless. I don't want to die for nothing."

Yao nodded and readied the gun, and at that moment Alfred had realized that no, he did not want to die. It may have been inevitable, but he still didn't want it to be. He thought of Arthur, and how he wished he could have solved the Brit's mystery.

His thoughts were rapidly answered when a window from the second story abruptly shattered, and out jumped Arthur, wielding a metal rod. He landed dramatically, nearly on top of Feliks and miraculously not setting off any mines. He swung the bar, but was easily dismissed by the terrorist who, stronger than he looked with the dress and all, merely kicked the tired Brit away effortlessly. He skidded painfully away, shuddering on the ground and trying to get up.

Yao retracted his hand gun as if that were his plan all along.

"First, go get your diary, aru. You're not a failure. Do something. Don't make him do all the work for you. You can defeat Ninth, you know you can, aru." he smiled. "Just tell yourself you're shaking because you're excited, not because you're scared."

Feliks struggled on the ground as well, apparently he had been hit harder than he first thought.

Alfred sputtered a little, willing away his panic and getting to his feet. He offered a terrified and almost humorous smile.

Yao tried not to laugh at the ridiculous expression at such a time, and merely pushed First forward, mumbling an encouragement. He held his gun toward Feliks' direction, who looked up to see First running. Through a mine field. Was this kid an idiot?

"Left, Alfred!" Arthur called.

He did as he was told, moving to the left and dodging a fatal mine.

"Right! Go right!"

Feliks eyed the mangled Brit reading off his cell phone and realized something. He wasn't dealing with just one, not even two, but three diary holders. This would have been too much of a victory if they hadn't teamed up.

Alfred quickly snatched his phone off the ground, stopping to not trigger any mines.

The beady-eyed terrorist stood but was immediately shot at by Fourth. The shots only grazed him, until they stopped.

"Left!" called Arthur. Alfred did as he was told.

Feliks sprinted, expertly dodging all of his mines. He reached Arthur who was limp on the floor and kicked him, hard.

Yao was hopelessly out of bullets, and Arthur was quickly tossed aside. Alfred kept running, but he knew not that Arthur was disabled, he would surely hit a mine.

Feliks got his controller, planning to just detonate everything now. He hissed when something heavy landed on his head. It was a book.

The surviving students rapidly threw books and other heavy things through the windows, hammering Feliks painfully. They all shrieked encouragingly like a pleased crowd as Alfred ran toward Feliks dangerously. He did eventually step on a mine.

It took a moment to erupt, he was about four feet away when it did. It blew him forward and off the ground, and he was flying straight at Feliks. He had apparently grabbed a sharp shard of glass. It glinted in the bright sun as it neared Feliks, who could not move as he was surrounded by his own explosives. Alfred landed to the ground, but kept running to him, readying the shard at his side.

Glaring enough that it would startle demons away from their shadows, he became impossibly close. The shard nearly stabbed straight through the terrorist's diary, bit Feliks quickly moved it away from harm.

Everything seemed to move agonizingly slow. The shard was right near his face, and moments later a centimeter away from his eye. Straight in the middle on his pupil.

Feliks shrieked horribly at the pain and the sound of his own eye being stabbed. He instantly curled back and covered his face with his hands and screamed again, twice as awful.

Arthur finally stood, yanking the control panel away from the screaming terrorist's hands. He threw it to the ground, smashing it.

Feliks just kept screaming horribly at the intense pain.

"You lose, aru. It's over Ninth." He aimed a newly loaded gun his direction. Feliks stopped screaming, and was just pathetically sobbing and whimpering now. Blood began to seep through the cracks of his shielding fingers.

"You're too injured to do anything." Yao said.

"Nooo... Don't you..." he panted and whimpered. "_Don't you dare belittle me!_" **(AN: Or I'll make Warsaw your capital.)**

This sort of thing must have been planned. Smoke poured from the ground, belittling the sense of sight. Yao could not see the strange blonde, but there was the immediate sound of a motor starting. As the smoke cleared, one could see a masculine figure in a dress escaping via motorcycle.

"My future diary is the escape diary!" he shrieked and then whimpered. He disappeared down the road as the sun set, leaving a trail of his own blood behind him.

The distorted sounds of First, Second, and Fourth's diaries changing echoed. The dead end flags had disappeared, and Yao had failed to apprehend Feliks.

Alfred helped Arthur to his feet. The Brit wobbled and leaned heavily on him, but nonetheless was standing again. Yao observed as the smoke faded.

"They are going to come after you again, aru. I have to arrest them and end this foolish game. We three must team up. We'll form an alliance, aru."

The Chinese cop extended his delicate hand warmly to the two students.

"It's a pleasure, aru."

Alfred happily nodded, ecstatic to finally receive some help. Arthur let go of him, standing on his own and checking his diary absentmindedly.

The American shook Yao's hand enthusiastically, grinning all the while. He turned beck to Arthur, smiling brightly.

"Let's get out of here, Artie."

"Y-yeah..." The Brit nodded, quickly closing his phone and blushing madly. Alfred seemed not to notice as he began to leave the area happily with Arthur following behind.

"_7/28 in the near future._

_Alfred and Arthur are together."_

_o_

**AN: That was a doozy. Yeesh.**

**Dangit OpenOffice.**

**I'm sorry if this chapter is awful. End of the school year, had to redo it, and I'm sick. So I apologize for the wait and the quality.**

**I need sleep. It's 3 AM Saturday night. Hgjkgrjkgrkw**

**Okay, I'm back and I just proofread this. I'M SO SORRY THIS IS BLEGH.**

**The next chapter of Parasites will definitely be better. For some reason, I have a much better time writing that one. **

**Parasites is another crossover fic, though it's about the 2p characters. It's Hetalia x The Cat Lady.**

**There was my moment of shameless advertising. I regret nothing.**

**I do not own Hetalia or Mirai Nikki.**


	4. Broken on Arrival

**AN: Summer time lovin', lovin' in the summertime. Not really, but as I write this I have one day of school left, and it's only two hours long. Wooo!**

**Funimation is officially dubbing Mirai Nikki. Google it. Their voices... They... they're not bad, but they're nothing like the original Japanese. Todd Haberkorn is Akise, which should be rather enjoyable, but Yuno isn't high-pitched enough. Then again, I haven't heard her when she goes crazy, so I can't judge yet.**

**So that means I'll probably update more often. Though there are still things I must do. I have many appointments many places, and I need to get ready to go to my dad's house, but I really will try. Ahemhem.**

_**Italics **_**= flashbacks. Or emphasis.**

**In this chapter, shit hits the fan.**

**I do not own Mirai Nikki or Hetalia.**

**BROKEN ON ARRIVAL**

**o**

The day was bright. Too bright for someone like Arthur who preferred overcast and rain.

He also hated the idle chatter of the crowds around him, as well as the excited shrieks of people riding a roller coaster. Yes, he was stranded in an amusement park, and he was not happy about it.

Arthur was sat in a cheap plastic chair, staring grumpily at the sky. He wondered why it was blue. He crossed his legs and rested his head in his hands as his interest was caught in a large ride taking off into the sky. It was one of those tower rides that would either shoot you up at high speeds, or slowly inch you up and drop you, thus giving you a near heart attack. To many it was thrilling, but to the green-eyed student it was just idiotic.

He yawned, uncrossing his legs and sighing. This was going to be a long day.

"Artie!"

Arthur jumped at the sound of Alfred's voice behind him. He quickly turned scolding the American to not do such things. He just shrugged and shoved a partially melting ice cream cone in Arthur's face. He sighed and took the treat.

"Alfred, let's do something a little less fast next time–"

"Whoa, awesome! Let's go on that!"

Alfred cheerfully pointed to the track of a ride that went very, very high, and very, very fast. Arthur shuddered.

"Let's not."

The blue-eyes boy clutched his ice cream close to his chest, widening his eyes purposely in what was supposed to be the classic puppy-dog look. Arthur snapped when he stuck out his bottom lip and whined cutely.

"Oh, alright, fine." he grumbled, standing and throwing away his untouched ice cream.

Alfred cheered, running to the ride childishly and laughing all the while. Arthur followed behind resignedly, grumbling something about poor manners and inside voices, even though they were clearly outside.

However, if he was going to be truthful, he didn't mind Alfred's adorable behavior one bit.

O

_When Feliks was young, he thought there was hope. He had believed in God._

_Violence and destruction had proved his hope wrong._

_He had arrived at home on that fateful day to find his parents dead. They were in the basement, battered, bruised, and bloody. One couldn't even discern who they were anymore._

_He was young, too young to even understand what was going on. It was early in his first year of grade school, and his parents would usually pick him up, but they hadn't that day. He had found his one way home. _

_The little boy hadn't even known what to do in that situation. He had simply done nothing but cry in his house and go hungry for days, just waiting for them to wake up. They never did, of course, and he figured that out eventually. He remembered the horrified faces of the people who found them to this day._

Feliks' one good eye darted open. He wanted to scream all over again from the pain coursing through his entire body and stemming from his left eye. The blonde put gentle pressure on the area, but that had stopped helping a long time ago. The blaring police sirens outside the forsaken building did not help at all. They gave him head pains on top of the awful throbbing that comes from having your eye completely ripped open. He whimpered quietly, alerting no one to his presence and wiped painful tears away from his cheeks with the sleeve of his dress. The wide-eyed man wished he wasn't dressed so stupidly, but the soft fabric did aid him slightly. He's need to thank Toris later, not that he wanted to see him.

O

"_I will need you help to carry out this plan, aru."_

_Yao was standing in front of a pristine white board in his office, shielding whatever was on it from view. Alfred and Arthur were patiently sat across from him in stiff waiting chairs._

"_Plan?" Alfred blinked._

"_Yes, plan. My plan is to stop the loss of life in this game. To do that we have to find the other diary holders, aru." The Chinese chief moved away from the board, showing four photos pinned into it with magnets. _

"_So far, we know the members in this room, aru. First, Alfred, and Second, Arthur. Then me, Fourth, Yao Wang."_

_The photo to the far right was of Alfred, sitting on a bench in the park toying with his phone with concentration in his blue eyes. The other students around him were blurred and the sprinklers were spraying on the lawn behind him. He wore a slight smile._

_The second photo from there was of Arthur. It was taken from behind a chain link fence, obviously a candid shot. He was scowling at something in the distance with his hands buried in his pockets. The bright sun reflected off his sandy blonde hair in a way that only made his eyebrows look larger than they were._

"_There's Third, the late Natalia, aru."_

_She was chewing on her pan while eying the clipboard in her hands, and even then, her lilac eyes were hauntingly lovely. Her silver hair was tied into a loose ponytail with a silky black ribbon._

"_And the fugitive, Ninth, Feliks,"_

_This photo showed a frightened child with wide, narrowed green eyes. His hair was tied back and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Something about the photo was horribly off-putting. Perhaps it was his skinny, gangly stature. _

"_That makes a total of five, aru. We must still find seven more. The plan is to find them, aru." Yao confirmed with steeled amber eyes. "For the time being, school is closed. Also, we absolutely must apprehend Ninth, aru."_

_Ninth, or Feliks, was still out there, free. His diary, the escape diary, gives him ideal escape routes. It's very, very hard to deal with. This was, of course, very useful to him when he escaped a large handful of cops after blowing their school to smithereens._

"_What do you suggest we do, then?" Arthur inquired._

"_Oh, that." Yao smiled wryly and dug in a desk drawer for a moment. He pulled out a pristine photograph, showing the picture to the boys. It displayed a neat and big amusement park, full of crowds, rides, and screams. "I want you two to go here, aru."_

o

Arthur shook with trepidation as the cars made their way up the track in a horrifyingly slow manner. Alfred was shaking with excitement.

"_Ninth may be on the run, but he still wants to kill you both, aru. I need you to do normal teenager things, act as bait until I can track him down."_

The ride went through a steep drop, nearly straight down. The green-eyed boy clutched the support bar as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, which to him, it way. He could have screamed and cried his eyes out, but his pride certainly wouldn't let him do that.

Next to him, the American laughed loudly with his hands in the air, letting out the occasional 'wee!'.

It whirled around a few times, and eventually stopped at the gates. Alfred hopped out of the car and leisurely strolled out of the ride happily. It was when he got to the gate that he noticed his companion was missing. Finally, he noticed that Arthur was still on the ride with closed eyes and white knuckles.

"Uh, Dude, the ride's over."

Arthur blinked his eyes rapidly and flustered. He bolted out of the seat and moved ahead of Alfred quickly, muttering something along the lines of 'I knew that'.

What Arthur didn't let on was how suspicious he was of Yao. He may have told them they were acting as bait, but it really just looked like they were fooling around for no reason. That's what it felt like, too, and he didn't like it one bit. What kind of plan was this? Perhaps Yao was just making sure that they stayed near the police station.

Still, to Alfred, this was a good opportunity. He could finally ask Arthur a question that has been plaguing him. Why was the odd Brit following him around in the first place?

O

Rain poured ruthlessly and wildly. Sirens were blaring, traffic guards stood about and prevented accidents. A car pulled into a parking spot at break-neck speed, causing a short commotion but calming eventually. Detectives questioned traffic-goers if they had seen a man. A man with shoulder length blonde hair, beady green eyes, and a rather noticeable accent. They said he went by the name of Feliks Lukasiewicz, but no drivers had ever heard the name, or seen anyone who resembled the description.

Little did they know, just beyond their reach, Feliks was gritting through excruciating pain inside a nearby abandoned building. He whimpered, but would not let tears fall. The salty water would only burn at his eye more. It was horribly difficult to hold in his screams, though.

His mind flashed to when he was a child, the countless days living on what leftover morsels he could find inside his secluded house. He lived very far from civilization at the time, and could not go find more food as his parents were rotting upstairs.

Feliks quickly rushed the worsening thoughts away, standing immediately when they left. He hastily stripped out of the now too warm maid outfit, and braced the arm that wasn't holding his eye around himself. He shivered out of fear and pain. The sirens were becoming more near and he would need to leave soon. He wasn't ready to drop out of the game yet and he would not give up. Feliks was determined to live. He would live and win the survival game, he couldn't afford to lose.

Beneath the dress he wore a tight black tank top along with a pair of black shorts. They looked like they were meant for women, and were much too tight, but it wasn't as if he could just pop up in the nearest clothing store.

Bracing for what the cold air outside would do to his mutilated eye, he lifted the sill of the back window and expertly jumped out, landing on a damp sidewalk. Luckily, this was an alley with a canopy overhead. The flighty blonde walked slowly and shakily, whimpering and willing himself to not cry. Street lamps glowed in the distance along the road, and luckily for him, there were no police in the vicinity as of yet. Despite his bracing, the rain stung horribly.

He checked his phone.

"_Two cops around the corner 50 meters ahead._

_Turn right to avoid danger."_

He almost followed his phone, until the screen cut to static and the distorted sound of a future changing was heard.

"Hey!"

Ahead, a duo of cops shouted to Feliks. He didn't think they knew who he was yet, and he still had a chance to hide from them. He grit his teeth and got ready to run, quickly turning and bolting in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" they exclaimed, following after him.

In the shadows, a hooded figure watched the scene play out. His spiky blonde hair was clearly visible from beneath the hood, and he appeared to be holding some sort of recording device in his hands. The rain broke into a drizzle as he observed the cops chasing after Feliks.

A voice rang out from the recorder, but only loud enough for the mysterious man to hear.

O

"There's a storm coming." Arthur observed casually. Alfred nodded and fell into step beside the Brit, watching the dark clouds approach.

The American heard a little gasp next to him, and turned to see Arthur looking wide-eyed at something in the distance. His green eyes sparkled like emeralds in sunlight and he fidgeted cutely, looking away from whatever he was staring at with a pout on his face. Alfred followed his gaze and found what he had been dreading. A haunted house. He hated the things, he really, really hated them. He couldn't watch a horror movie, let alone venture into a spook house without pissing himself.

But the doubtful look on the Brit's face made him decide to perhaps make an exception, just this once.

He sighed, knowing he'd regret his decision.

"You want to go in the haunted house, don't you Artie."

Arthur was still turned away, but if the red on his ears was anything to go by, he was embarrassed. He nodded quickly, gripping Alfred by his jacket sleeve (an action that has become somewhat of a habit) and all but dragged him inside the dark house.

Once inside, they stayed close together. It was just dark, for the most part, with a few sounds and jump scares somewhere in the distance.

Arthur was smiling dreamily, apparently loving the spooky and decrepit feel of the place. Alfred, on the other hand, was shaking horribly and silently cursing Arthur for making him come inside the hellish place. What was worse, Arthur obviously knew how terrified he was of these things. He glanced at the American and snickered lightly, but Alfred was too frightened to defend himself. The place was filled to the brim with fake cobwebs and spiders, and it was constantly lit in dim, spooky greens and violets. It was really more like your average kindergarten spook house than a real haunted house. The problem was, Alfred could be scared of his own shadow on a bad day.

When the room erupted into a startling red light and a gross looking animatronic creature appeared, he screamed and flailed hilariously. Arthur offered a startled gasp, but it was probably more from his shrieking companion than the house itself.

As the screaming died down and he was reduced to just trembling, Arthur let out a snicker under his breath.

The taller continued to walk down the dim hall, albeit slowly. He made a nonchalant attempt at reaching behind himself, trying to pull the Brit forward. Arthur took the hint, which was to walk in front of Alfred and act as his version of a short and grumpy human shield. Instead, he grinned and slyly took the American's hand, and the trembling stopped as he stiffened and continued walking.

To Al, this whole shenanigan was looking like a fun trip to the amusement park, but the catch was you had to bring a clingy weirdo along. And to Arthur, it was like a torturous date where he was forced to ride those horrible contraptions called roller coasters.

It seemed neither of them could win.

At what seemed to be the end of the haunted house, another horrific demon dramatically appeared and nearly scared the daylights our of the American yet again. This time, he felt Arthur's hold on his hand tighten, and he realized that perhaps the older was a lot more scared than he let on. The relieved sigh he gave when they exited the building only further proved his point. Maybe Arthur was just a normal guy. Yeah, he was a little weird sometimes, and he got riled up over the strangest of things from what Alfred had seen, but maybe he had completely misjudged the Brit. He didn't know him very well in the first place, so who was he to say anything.

Arthur noticed Alfred staring and gave a small nervous smile. He loosened his grip on Alfred's hand, most likely expecting him to wrench out of the hold or something similar, but was surprised when the American only blushed lightly and looked away. He didn't let go, and they continued walking like that.

Alfred had many questions for Arthur. He needed to ask why the older kept following him around in such a frightening way, and why his diary was the way it was, but he just kept getting distracted by the faraway look in his green eyes, or the way his cheeks pinked every time he looked at him. It might have just been the excitement of the amusement park talking, but he had to admit, Arthur did look, maybe just a little, well, _cute _today.

The sun was setting after a while. The cheery light from earlier was turning into a nice, cool breeze, and orange was shining off everything. They walked through a rather peaceful section of the park. It was less crowded, mainly just trees and streetlamps dotting a stone path leading up a hill. It had been a few hours since the haunted house, and they had long since stopped holding hands. It was really just awkward silence now, the perfect time to ask some questions. At the top of the hill there was an old, counter-clockwise rotating ferris wheel. Alfred suggested that it would be the last thing they did that day, to which Arthur nodded. They boarded without a word. It was a slow moving ride, taking a few minutes to even move an eighth of the entire wheel. Alfred sat on one side of the car, looking out the window without interest. Arthur crossed one leg over the other and looked out the same window, probably less distracted than the taller.

"The sky is rather lovely today." he murmured.

Alfred only nodded.

Arthur continued. "We can see the entire city as well."

There was a long fit of silence as they continuously moved higher, until...

"Say, Artie..."

The green-eyed boy looked away from the window to find Alfred gazing at him with patient, genuine kindness.

"Why do you follow me around?"

Arthur furrowed his brows slightly. The only sound they could hear was the white noise of the wheel moving steadily. He said nothing for a minute, wanting to choose his words carefully.

"Alfred, why didn't you want to stay here longer? You've always loved the starry sky at night, right?"

"How did you... know..." Alfred thought for a moment, then seemed to find the answer.

"Artie, you shouldn't use your diary for stuff like that-"

"I didn't!"

Arthur stood suddenly, rocking the car back and forth. He looked downward at Alfred tensely. This question seemed to set him off. "You told me that! I didn't use it! You told me yourself, a long time ago..."

Alfred shook his head, denying every saying anything about that, but then he stopped. Maybe he had, actually, but he could barely remember the event as it wasn't very memorable to him.

o

_5 years ago..._

The sun was already setting.

A young Arthur glared down at the paper innocently sitting on his desk. He needed to go home soon, but he couldn't even think of a reason as to why he would need to. The assignment was to decide what you wanted to do with your life once you graduate. His now dull green eyes glared at the paper as if he wished to set it on fire, it really was the last thing he needed at that time of his life. He shut his eyes and rested his head in his hands, taking in a deep sigh, and just thinking of something to make up.

The classroom was nearly empty now. The other students had all gone home, and only two remained. Arthur was sat near the front, while there was another boy still there in the back.

He heard the screeching of a chair against tile, and assumed it would be the other boy behind him going to turn in the assignment and leave. At the time, he only thought of good riddance, not he could be alone in his thoughts. The small Brit startled when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a pair of glimmering blue eyes looking shyly down at him.

"What's wrong?" the blue-eyed boy asked, smiling nervously. Arthur recognized him as the kid who always sat in the back of class discreetly playing with his phone when no one was looking. He was clutching a paper, the same assignment. There was only a small bit of writing in the corner of the page. "You don't know either, huh?" the boy prodded.

Arthur looked at the paper, and the American boy blushed and held it up.

"_I want to see the stars with my family. _

_My parents got divorced last week."_

The boy, and according to his paper, Alfred, smiled boyishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, last week they got a divorce. We already got a telescope and everything, but I guess they just forgot about it with all the arguing." He shrugged after he said it, as if it was no big deal.

Arthur realized that he had said nothing the entire time. It was to be expected, really, he hardly ever spoke these days. He looked down to his own blank paper shyly, sympathizing with the kind boy, but saying nothing.

He seemed to panic at Arthur's silence and began to move back to his own desk.

"It's probably weird, huh, yeah... I'll just go erase it."

Acting on impulse, Arthur caught the Alfred's jacket sleeve with a weak grip. He turned back around and looked at Arthur questioningly.

"It... it isn't weird." Arthur said quietly. Alfred was a little surprised at the accent hidden beneath his raspy voice.

"Nah, I know, it is pretty weird. We're gonna turn these in anyway, so it would just be embarrassing."

Arthur offered a small, sympathetic smile.

"Um... well, if you don't want them to know about your parents, then you could just go see the stars with me..." he blushed as he said it, and mentally smacked himself afterward. That was not what you were supposed to say to someone you just barely met. Lost in the moment of finally speaking to someone, he just wasn't thinking very clearly. "Th-there is a nice, clear hill close by, so... Um, is that a good idea? I don't know..."

The American laughed awkwardly. "Uh, but, I wanted to go with my family..."

"Well that's difficult of you... How about this, then."

On his own paper, he began to write.

"_Become Alfred's best friend."_

Arthur smiled up at the other boy. "If I'm your friend, you'd go see them with me, right?" his voice was still quiet, but he was gaining more nerve.

Alfred thought he was just joking. He smiled down at the other boy he didn't even know.

"Maybe. In a while. I bet once you got to know me, you wouldn't want to be my friend anyway."

The green-eyed boy shook his head and smiled his first real smile in a long time.

O

At the top of the ferris wheel, Arthur was still staring down at the American desperately.

Alfred's eyes were wide with recognition, but he still didn't follow. If he recalled correctly, up until very recently, they still hadn't spoken since that day.

"That's the only reason?" he said confusedly. "I really thought you were joking, and still, that's not a reason to..."

The emerald-eyed teen lowered so that he was eye level with the other, but was still standing. He put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, looking him in the eye but not saying anything yet.

"You're still hiding something." Alfred said, "I know it."

Arthur inched closer and tilted his head up so that he was nearly a head above the other, shutting his eyes. He moved in and left a sweet little kiss on his forehead, just below his hairline. Arthur moved back, opening his eyes again and standing normally. Alfred noticed the nervous little smile he was trying to hide.

"That's a secret, Love. I can't tell you." Arthur whispered.

Looking into his eyes, the green vibrant in the light of sunset, Alfred decided not to question. Maybe they could be friends, real friends, or maybe more as Arthur obviously displayed. Everyone had secrets, even the people closest to you, and he understood that. He'd give him a chance, and ignore the secrets he had hidden, at least, for a while.

The ride ended peacefully and the two had quietly left the park after that. The clouds of a storm were steadily and slowly moving in and showing the telltale signs of a soon-coming rain. This was answered as not a moment later, little sprinkles of rain began to drop on the area.

Making a mutual decision, the two blondes had jogged to the nearest convenience store in search of an umbrella, or maybe some kind of jacket. Alfred waited outside, leaning against the wall and trying to stay under the small inlet of shelter. Seconds later Arthur came out of the store with a large black umbrella.

"You don't mind if we share one, do you?"

Alfred shook his head and took the umbrella, opening it and holding it above their heads. The rain was falling steadily, not quite pouring nor sprinkling, but it was enough to be an annoyance. Along the way, the American had come to the awful realization that he did not have the money for a bus ride home. He would either need to stop somewhere for the night, or walk home in the chilling not-quite-pouring rain. Saying nothing of it, he just followed Arthur the entire walk. Eventually, the Brit had stopped at a rather fairytale-esque house. It was a little run-down, and there was ivy and other plants going out of control outside, but the place seemed cozy and nice.

"This is where you live?"

"It is." Arthur nodded.

Immediately changing his earlier decision out of some strange feeling of apprehension, Alfred turned to Arthur and smiled sheepishly.

"Guess I'll be on my way then-"

"Alfred."

The Brit's face was red when he said it. He turned away and pursed his lips.

"Uh, I know you live rather far away, and, well, since you have nowhere to go..."

Realizing he couldn't back down now, the American blushed equally red and nodded. "Sure."

o

"I see. Thanks. Then tell me when Alfred leaves. Bye."

Toris hung up the phone and sighed. Another late night's work.

His boss, Yao, was sat in a nearby chair typing something on his phone.  
"That was security, sir." Toris notified, "The kids made it home safe."

"Good, aru." Yao waved the detective away.

Toris frowned at his dismissal and stayed in place. "Should we add more guards to their security? They said the house looked empty."

Yao finally looked up at the brunette. "That's necessary aru." He looked at his phone again. "Feliks isn't after them tonight."

Toris blinked, puzzled.

"We only need enough guards to warn people away. Let the kids have their fun, aru."

o

Feliks slid to the ground and panted harshly. He was exhausted after outrunning those stubborn cops. His eye still hurt like all hell breaking loose and his shorts were positively strangling him, but at least he had gotten away.

Something was amiss, though. He was following his escape diary's instructions, but the police were still near. He jolted when he heard the quiet sound of shuffling footsteps in the mud. They slowly approached the terrorist, and he had nowhere to run.

"Quiet."

The mysterious person sounded like he was not used to whispering. His wild, blonde hair was visible from under his hood, and he had an odd accent in his voice. He held a hand out in emphasis of telling Feliks to be quiet. He obeyed, as he had no choice.

The strange man stopped in front of Feliks, looking down at him with eyes the terrorist couldn't see.

"Can you move?"

Feliks glared up at the man with his good eye. He was about to make another run for it when he suddenly felt a hand grasp at his hair and lightly pull as if to keep him in place. He squawked indignantly and squirmed to leave the man's grip. The stranger now grabbed Feliks by his arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" the wounded blonde protested.  
"I'm just trying to help, man. Quit moving."

The hooded blonde bodily dragged Feliks into the woods, rousing the terrorist's suspicions of this man even further.

"Like, what are you trying to do..."

"You don't have a choice. Just come on."

o

Alfred shook his precious jacket, hoping to void it of any rainwater. It was hard to tell how much he was actually getting rid of in the dim lighting of Arthur's house. The Brit had said that it must have been the rain cutting the power off, and that they'd just have to deal with it for now.

He returned later with a candle, setting it on the table with a sparse orange flicker.

"I'll go see what I have in the kitchen. We've been out all day, I'm starving."

Arthur left the American to his own devices once again, who blinked at his departure. He hadn't been able to get a word in the entire visit because Arthur kept leaving to do one thing or another. It was a little unsettling. The house was so dark and quiet, the only noises to be heard were Arthur's footsteps. Didn't he have people living here with him? Were they just out at the moment? Becoming off put by the dismal atmosphere, he chose to venture around the house a little. Surely Arthur wouldn't mind, and the place didn't seem all that large either, so he'd probably be back before he returned anyhow. Grabbing the candle for a light source, he stood and pulled on his damp jacket once again and shivered. Maybe he could find a blanket or something, too. With that thought he left the room and was met with a narrow, dark hallway. There was no sign of Arthur in the vicinity.

O

It was an old forsaken cabin that Feliks had been carried to by the strange man. The rain pounded on its weak roof, and some parts of the porch were completely sunken in. The lights were still on inside, albeit flickering slightly at the excursion from the rain.

The flighty terrorist was unconscious in a small, moth-eaten, raggedy bed. Not that he minded, at that point in time, any rest was good and well-needed. His blonde hair had long since been pulled from its pig-tailed state and was now splayed out behind his head onto the pillow like golden wheat.

He abruptly winced and awoke, instantly gripping at his shut eye in pain. This wasn't the worst he'd been through, but the cold chill of rain outside and leaking in through the old wood was not helping matters at all. He whimpered and panted at the awful stinging sensation that seemed to stem from his eye and root itself throughout his entire body.

His strange rescuer approached his bedside, kneeling down next to the pitiful blonde. He was holding a bottle of what looked like pain pills (though the bottle had no label), and a slightly cloudy glass of water. Feliks opened his one good eye to find his captor was wearing a brown paper bag over his head to preserve his identity. He would have laughed if he hadn't felt like his entire body was burning.

"Painkillers." the muffled man said. "You'll feel tons better if you take 'em."

"Who are you..." Feliks whispered.

"Me?" the man said, "I'm just a good guy who helps good people."

The blonde terrorist smirked up at him mirthlessly, glaring at his paper bag face.

"Then you totally saved the wrong person."

"When I say good people, I mean my definition of good people. I sorta follow my own rules here." the man explained with a constant smile in his voice. "I saved the right person."

"You're so gonna regret this." Feliks muttered, still resting against the scratchy sheets.

"If anyone regrets anything, it'll be you, trust me." the terrorist blanched at the man's words and nervously searched his pocket for his cell phone. Finding it safely inside, he pulled it out and flipped it open and sighed with relief. His diary hadn't changed at all. Was he safe here?

The man had left the pain killers and water on the bedside table and left Feliks to his own devices, though he was only a few feet away as the cabin was rather tiny. He grabbed a recorder off the ground near the chair he sat on, holding it close to his ears and listening to his own hushed whispers. His dull blue eyes stared lifelessly at the brown material over his face, and he just sat, listening.

O

The hallway was rather creepy for the blue-eyed boy. He crept through it slowly, jumping at every creek his footsteps made. Along his search, he found that he needed to use the bathroom, and was now simply looking for it and hoping to return directly after. No such luck, he hadn't been able to find It so far. Perhaps it wasn't the greatest idea to leave his cell phone on the table. It probably would have told him where the restroom was without a problem.

The orange flickering flame of the candle was Alfred's only comfort in this creepy hall. Assorted paintings dotted the walls but he paid them no attention, afraid that their eyes might follow him as he walked.

He stopped moving when he noticed the glimmer of something from the firelight to the distant right of him. It was a door. Not just any door, though. The door was shut tightly and seemed almost fixated to the wall, but the most odd thing was its edges. The glimmering he had caught was shining off several strips of silver, shiny duct tape. It seemed old and worn. The tape was haphazardly stretched across all parts of there the door met the door frame, probably in an effort to seal it permanently. It was rather well done too, it seemed. It looked like someone didn't want anyone getting in that room. Thinking it was just some weird home improvement caution, Alfred let his curiosity get the better of him and placed his hand on the knob, hoping it would budge and that the tape would break.

Arthur sighed, disappointed at the ill contents of the kitchen. There was hardly a morsel to be found. He took out his phone to check the time, and as he was doing so, skimmed through his diary and smiled at his most recently discovered entry.

"_Alfred and Arthur are together."_

o

After taking the painkillers, Feliks was beginning to grow a little tired. Then he realized, this wasn't the fatigue you were supposed to feel after taking a pain pill. He sat up quickly, panicked, and moved to get out of the bed. His plans of escape were thwarted, however, when the very moment he stood, his knees decided to buckle and his legs shakily gave out, leaving him crashing unceremoniously to the ground. He his the splintery wood face first, trying to brace himself on his arms, but failing to do so as they went out too. Everything felt numb, and he could not move a single part of his body.

"You..." he whimpered, "You, what did you give me...?"

He strained to move his head in the stranger's direction but only succeeded in causing great pain to his already throbbing neck.

"Drugs that will help me treat you." the man stated bluntly. He got up from his seat and moved to the immobile terrorist, kneeling down in front of him and instead of looking at him, looking at the wall behind him for reasons Feliks could not decipher.

"Stay away." the limp blonde growled pathetically.

The open cell phone had landed on the ground along with Feliks when he fell, and he tore a beady green eye to it. There was nothing. No change at all.

"It's a fake." the stranger said, still staring at the wall. "It's a fake, Ninth, Feliks Lukasiewicz. I changed it while you were asleep."

Feliks couldn't believe he had been tricked so easily. Was this to be the end of him? No, he wouldn't let it get to that. He had to win the survival game.

"You have a diary?" he muttered.

The man didn't answer his question, but kept talking. He turned Feliks roughly so that he was lying on his back and looking up at him.

"Tell me all you know about the others who have diaries." he said calmly.

The terrorist struggled and tried to flee, but the drugs would not let him move a muscle. His heart hammered as his captor's hand moved to his face and above his ungraceful eye, touching the painful area roughly. He forced the eyelids open, and the chilly air that assaulted Feliks' eye was unimaginably painful. "Stop!" he cried hoarsely.

The man didn't listen and just pressed around the area harder, and finally moved his fingers down into the disfigured eye, as if he were about to simply pull it out.

Feliks whimpered and cried, but the mad seemed to have no mercy.

"Tell me who First is." he demanded.

His fingers just kept digging into Feliks' eye.

"St-stop!" he shouted, trying desperately to move under the drugs' influence. When he didn't answer the man's question, his eyes dug into the deepest crevice of his eye socket and he screamed. There was a horrible popping sound as the terrorist lost his entire eye under this man's awful torture. No, to answer his previous question to himself, he was definitely not safe here.

No one but the rain and dead forest heard the wounded terrorist's pained screams.

O

When the knob of the door turned, Alfred swore he heard the odd sound of his future changing from his diary in the distant room he had left it in. His eyes widened, surprised, but with some effort he was able to push the heavily sealed door open anyway.

He had never imagined that just opening that damn door would change all of them, all 11 of the diary users' futures so drastically.

Throughout the city, all eleven of them were enveloped in a sudden, intense wave of consternation. None of them had any clue as to why, but they certainly did notice their diaries change, and their complete plans and future along with it.

The door slowly creaked open, and Alfred ignored the sudden alarmed and rushed footsteps of Arthur in the other room. The awful smell of something rotting for a long, long time, it was utterly putrid.

What was inside was a cubic, metal contraption, no, a _cage. _That wasn't the alarming part, though. Inside the cage, there were three ugly little pathetic things staring at him without dead eyes. Where they still had skin was horribly rotted and dirty, and their faces were completely sunken in to the point of barely being there at all. In Arthur's house, in this particular room, in a cage, were three definitely human corpses. All stacked on top of each other, as the space in the cage was not enough to contain all three separately.

He only stared, a look of absolute horror marring his face. He hadn't even noticed that he'd dropped the candle, or how badly he was shaking.

Just because he opened that door and saw that, every machine that Roma had created instantly sprang to life. The god watched patiently as everything was changing, everything set in foundation collapsing. If only First hadn't opened the damn door. Everyone's future had undergone a complete change. To say that Roma was entertained would be a colossal understatement, and he knew that he was right in choosing the players of his game.

The footsteps stopped behind Alfred. The chilling presence of Arthur behind him was one of the most frightening things he had ever felt. He was but an inch away, staring into the room with Alfred, a horribly devastated look in his vibrant green eyes.

"Everything was going to perfectly." he whispered sadly. Tears were steadily making their way down his face, but otherwise, he didn't look like he was crying at all. Just horrified and shocked.

"Why... why did you open the door, Love?"

The feeling of how close Arthur was and the ghosting of his breath behind him jolted the American back to reality. He turned and roughly shoved the crying Brit out of the way, sprinting to the nearest exit of the house. Rain be damned, he needed to get the hell out of that place, now. He had known something was amiss all along, but had never suspected something like what he saw in that room. He couldn't get the agonized faces of the corpses out of his mind as he ran out into the street, barely dodging several disgruntled drivers along the way. He ran, he ran as far away as he could. He knew he lived far from here, but he truly needed the safety of home. He glanced behind him and was relieved to find that Arthur was not tailing him. Or at least, just not on his direct path. The assumed psychopath could be hiding in the shadows very near for all he knew. Nonetheless, he kept sprinting in the middle of the wet road and nearly slipping and being killed by drivers. After a long, tedious, tiring, panicked run, Alfred had miraculously made it home. He opened the door and slammed it just as quick behind himself. Locked the lock on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain, everything. He slid to the ground with his back against the door, panting and crying out of fear. Of course his mother wasn't home that night, with his luck. He stared impossibly blue eyes at only the surface of his door, just trying to gather his breath and pull himself together. Perhaps there was a logical explanation, but he couldn't come up with one in that state of mind anyway.

He jumped when there was a loud knocking against his back. It wasn't really a knock, so much as it was a pout. He instantly reeled away from the door and to the opposite wall, gazing at it with horrible fear in his expression. The mail slot slammed open.

Wide, acidic, bloodshot, and tear-streaked green eyes glared into him from the little space.

"Good night." a heavily accented voice whispered, almost inaudibly from the other side. Alfred gaped. The green eyes widened further, almost in a smile. Arthur's voice from outside the door shook.

"Good night, Love."

o

**Welp that's one way to ruin a steadily growing romance.**

**Next chapter you get a new character or two. Yippee!**

**I'm sorry about typos or errors.**

**I don't own Mirai Nikki or Hetalia.**


	5. Manual Input

**AN: I do not own Mirai Nikki or Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**Only the slightest, very very small bit of JapAme will happen in either this chapter or the next.**

**MANUAL INPUT**

**o**

The rain was still pouring and soaking the pavement outside.

Directly after Arthur had appeared in his mail slot, Alfred had made a man dash to the second floor of his house.

He had covered himself in his thick duvet and trembled, doing nothing but listening to the clock tick. His eyes were still just as wide as they were before because he just could not get that awful image of haphazardly stacked corpses out of his head. His teeth began to chatter, and he wasn't even cold.

Why would those have been in Arthur's house? Why was he obviously trying to hide them? Could it have been that he... killed them? He wouldn't put it past him...

Al's mother would be stuck in the office yet again that night, which was no surprise, but he just wished that by some miracle she would have been home. It would make him feel safer. Maybe he could call the police and report the bodies.

He began to dial the number of Chief Yao, thinking he'd get better service that way, but the screen flashed to another window showing that he had received a text.

Knowing it was from Arthur, he just pressed end and tried to dial Yao's number again. But somehow, every single time he tried to contact the Chinese officer, he received yet another text from the blonde.

Giving up, he read the messages.

"_Who are you calling?"_

Alfred wanted to throw his phone across the room, but knew better than to risk his own life by doing so. He didn't try to call Yao anymore, knowing it was a meaningless effort, and just huddled in the blankets and shivered. The rain was still pounding.

He gave up and went limp on his bed, falling into a restless sleep.

O

Alfred was startled awake to the high pitched noise of his doorbell ringing. He ignored it and curled further into the covers in favor of more much needed sleep.

His efforts were demolished when it rang again, and his phone began to vibrate. When it didn't stop he realized it wasn't a text message, but someone was calling him.

He sat up abruptly and quickly answered with a voice that was just startled out of hoarse sleepiness.

"Yeah? Oh, Yao!" he said, relieved it wasn't someone else.

"_I'm at your house right now. Are you out somewhere aru?"_

"No, no I was sleeping." he nearly jumped out of bed and rushed to the door. "I'll be right down!"

The jittery American charged down the stairs and hung up the call, bursting through the door to find Yao waiting patiently on the other side with his arms crossed.

"Sorry 'bout that." he panted.

The Chinese Chief observed his ruffled appearance.

"... You were up late last night, aru?"

"Wha? Uh, no..." the American teen shook his head, putting on his favored jacket and shutting the door behind him. He didn't really care about how he looked at that moment.

"I told you to call me before you left Arthur's house, aru." Yao reprimanded.

"Sorry..."

"Let's just go."

Yao began to turn and head back to his car, but Alfred stayed rooted in place.

"Wait, Chief, um, about Arthur... last night I-"

"Alfred..."

There was the sound of one of Yao's car doors opening and shutting, but Yao was still on the pavement. Arthur came out of the car looking sternly at the American teen. He put on a fake, bashful blush.

"Don't tell other people... it's embarrassing..."

The clever Brit wrung his hands in what he hoped looked like embarrassed posture.

Yao laughed, bewildered.

"Yes, yes, you're young, it happens, aru."

He opened the driver's seat door and hopped in.

Arthur gave the American teen a sweet smile that made him want to run back to his room all over again.

"Just get in, aru." called Yao.

"Yes, sir..." Alfred uttered, moving to the front passenger seat and away from Arthur in the back.

The three silently left the neighborhood and Yao drove into the highway, picking up speed. The ride was almost completely silent, until...

"Feliks Lukasiewicz was captured, aru." Yao said suddenly.

"Wha, Ninth?"

"Yes. Ninth was captured by a religious group, the Honda Cult, aru. My diary says so."

"Honda Cult...?"

Arthur listened intently from the backseat, not saying a word.

"I just said so, yes. I might need you two to back me up, aru." Yao nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "That's where we're going now."

o

It was a Japanese styled building, with worshipers actually waiting in line to pray. There were several lines with several shrines at the end, and they all steadily walked with their hands clasped below dozens of red-painted archways. There were men and women wearing red and white kimono, pounding on large drums in rhythm together. It was red roofed with unlit lanterns, decorations, and wind shimes hanging everywhere. Confetti and cherry blossom petals rained down on the people there, but they didn't seem to mind, and it gave that final touch of Japanese elegance to the place.

Alfred just stood there, gaping like a fish, while Arthur was standing silently behind him. Yao had went off to question some of the worshipers or servants.

"Police?"

A little blonde girl, who apparently went by the name of Bella and had the most precious smile ever, looked up at Yao questioningly. "But he doesn't see anyone without an appointment..." She had a green ribbon tied in her hair that matched her eyes.

"It won't take long, aru." the Chinese man smiled. "Could you just see if he'll grant us an audience?"

"Oh, I doubt he will..." Bella scratched her cheek in thought.

Yao looked around some, then leaned down to whisper to Bella.

"Can't you help us out here, aru?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, then opened them and stood on her toes and began calling out.

"Hey, Matthew!"

Another man with dirty blonde hair and glasses turned to them looking confused.

Meanwhile, Alfred had stopped gaping, and was staring into his reflection in a decorative crystal clear pond in thought. If he were to tell anyone about what he saw yesterday, Arthur would know. He reached into the water at the little tadpoles swimming around, but they darted away when he did.

If Arthur were to find out that Alfred told, would he do the same thing to him that he did to those bodies?

Speaking of the Brit, he had been standing wordlessly behind the American the entire time. Like he was just watching, or monitoring, always. Alfred acted like he hadn't noticed he was there.

Bella came running back outside from the building, waving at Yao.

"Sorry, Mr. Cop! I guess Mr. Honda actually will see you." she smiled in a mature, apologetic way.

Alfred and Arthur moved to them, assuming that they were to come as well.

"It's this way." she smiled, turning and leading the way.

Yao quirked an eyebrow and followed, signaling for the blonde teens to follow as well.

She lead them into the building, through several well polished halls and corridors, and finally into a single dimly lit room seemingly in the center of the building. They were told to take their shoes off inside, as it was disrespectful to leave them on and it may dirty the floors.

The three followed behind Bella into the dark room, and noticed several worshipers sitting or kneeling in front of a raised platform with wooden barriers. It looked almost like a cage, or just a sealed room of sorts.

The worshipers kneeling had an absolutely pallid color to their face, and their eyes were completely dull, like that of a dead fish. It was chilling, to say in the least.

Bella signaled for them to kneel as well, and they did as they were told, looking up into the dark cage-like room but seeing nothing. It was like a prison.

The overhead lights faded on and the outline of a person sitting behind a low table appeared. The more the light showed, the cleared he became. He was sitting with his knees on the ground and with his hands clasped in his lap. He had ebony hair chopped neatly to outline his face, was rather pale, and brown eyes that stared right through you. The thin man wore a lovely blue patterned yukata that was long and splayed on the ground under him.

He smiled politely at the crowd from inside his prison and waved a delicate hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I am Honda Kiku." his smile became wider and his eyes more dead. "Please enjoy your stay."

Nothing was said for a long time. The crowd had separated to make room for the three guests, who were awkwardly kneeling.

"May I look at you more closely? I was born with very poor vision, and as a result, I have spent most of my life in this cell." Kiku clasped his hands in his lap again and dropped some of his sweet smile.

"My sole entertainment comes from writing in my diary about my visitors from far-off places."

He took something from under the table, a large scroll. He unraveled some of it, displaying what was written inside. There were several names of several people, all with different things written under them which could not be discerned.

"However." the worshiped man continued. "A few weeks ago, my diary began to tell me about the future. I call it the Clairvoyant Diary."

Alfred and Yao were silently gaping, not expecting this turn of events at all. Was this just a coincidence? Arthur, however, stayed methodically quiet.

Kiku continued. "It divulges the futures of faraway people. This is my future diary, and I am Sixth."

Yao grit his teeth and furrowed his brows, unsure of what to do at that point. He had told the station to prepare for a raid in the event that they hadn't heard from him.

The imprisoned man blinked and glanced at his diary, the scroll.

"I see. You've prepared a raid with the police department. How prudent. You all act so surprised and harmless, all I can do is laugh." he giggled quietly into his hand. "To be clear, I have no desire to become God. After all, I am already someone who hears God's voice. For me to become God would be insane. Ninth is in a cell below. He is the reason you are here, correct? Feel free to do with him as you wish." Kiku nodded to the set of doors that led below.

"What is this?" questioned Yao, standing and leaving the kneeling position. Several of the worshipers grumbled at his blatant disrespect. "What are you up to, aru?"

"I have no time to waste on insignificant matters."

The Japanese man displayed his diary to the crowd once again, clearly displaying in bold black ink, _DEAD END._

"At this rate, I will die tonight. However... here, we have Alfred-kun, who has evaded two Dead Ends."

The two blondes stood, looking up at Kiku through the wooden bars of his room.

"I would like to make an exchange." Kiku said. "I will give you Ninth. In return, give me Alfred-kun-"

"We won't do that!" came a sudden outburst from Arthur.

Yao went into thought. If they allowed Ninth to escape and Sixth to get killed, the situation would spiral out of control. They didn't have much of a choice.

"Alfred, aru." he said, shifting his eyes in Kiku's direction, implying where he was on the matter.

"No, Alfred." Arthur argued, standing between him and Kiku.

"Alfred-kun." Kiku nearly begged.

It seemed that the votes were stacked against him. Alfred grimaced, knowing he's have no choice in the matter, just as he hadn't had on in everything else that had happened thus far.

O

Later that evening, Bella and Matthew entered Kiku's dimly lit room carrying spare pillows and duvets. Alfred watched silently from his chosen corner of the room as they unlocked and opened the door to Kiku's cell, giving him the bedding and closing it again. They bowed and left, wishing that Japanese man a good rest.

"Uh..." he wanted to fill the silence. "Does your diary tell you anything about the people out to kill you?"

The brown eyed man shook his head slowly, not even looking up at him. "It has its limitations. It isn't omniscient."

Alfred nodded and just continued to it there. Arthur and Yao watched from outside the room. Alfred only had to stay with Kiku for one night, but still, it was like he was sleeping on a bed of needles. The door to the room was shut and the two watching could not hear anything that was said inside.

"Alfred-kun."

He looked up at Kiku, who was carefully watching the door. He appeared to be having a staring contest with Arthur.

"That boy is dangerous."

Alfred quirked a brow in question. He knew that already, but how did Kiku?

"I have a prediction. He will surely destroy you." he moved his eyes from the door, looking down again.

"Is that what your diary says?" Alfred questioned.

"It's what my intuition says."

Outside the door, and unbeknownst to the two inside, Arthur knew exactly what was being said inside. His diary was telling him so.

"_Alfred and Sixth are talking about me._

_Alfred looks uncomfortable after Sixth says something bad about me."_

He couldn't have Kiku confusing him with that nonsense. He first glared at his phone, then snapped it shut and glared through the small windows in the doors, harboring a self-proclaimed license to kill.

Then, inside the room, the strangest and most unexpected thing happened. The blankets and pillows that Matthew and Bella had brought began to emit smoke, then there was a loud popping noise and they suddenly burst into flames. There was a strangled little cry from Kiku that alerted Al, who looked up and noticed the flames growing. He quickly stood, but didn't know what to do as the cage was completely locked and he had no way of helping Kiku.

The doors slammed open behind him and servants rushed in, shouting for water and trying to get inside the cage.

Yao and Arthur stood and watched, completely dumbfounded.

One of the worshipers who had been kneeling in Kiku's room earlier rushed in with a bucket, and many sighed in relief, but when he splashed the liquid onto the fire it only grew. It was oil, not water. The man who had the bucket stared on with blank, dead eyes, resembling Kiku's own.

"You idiot, that's gas!" someone shouted.

Kiku had backed himself into a corner away from the raging and growing flames, trembling in fright.

The man who had thrown the gas quickly shook his head and his eyes reverted back to normal. He left the room in a hurry, obviously confused and scared.

Several more worshipers arrived. They were carrying axes and some moved to chop at the wood confining Kiku, but strangely, others were swinging at each other, their eyes constantly blank and dead, as if they were brainwashed.

Alfred rushed away just as blood started spraying on the walls and floors, meeting with Arthur and Yao who had rushed in away from the mess. Chaos ensued as more people with weapons arrived, for some reason slaughtering each other endlessly.

What the hell was going on? Now no one was trying to save Kiku anymore, and everyone was just hacking away at each other. Realizing that Kiku would certainly burn to death at this rate, Alfred ran back into the chaos.

"Don't!" Arthur cried.

He turned back for a moment, looking over his shoulder and into wide green eyes that begged him not to go.

"I can't just let him die!" Alfred protested.

Arthur shook his head and took a step to Alfred, who took a step back. "Let him die..? Alfred, something is really wrong here. I think it's a trap." he worried. "The way things stand, you'll die!"

"But if I don't help him..."

"Just trust me!"

"Don't you care if he dies?!"

"Let's just go home, okay?" Arthur reasoned. "And then-"

"And then what, you kill me too?!" Alfred shouted harshly.

Arthur reeled back, shocked.

Alfred continued. "If I hadn't run from your house last night, wouldn't I have ended up like them? After seeing that, how the hell do you expect me to believe anything you say?! I don't trust you, Arthur."

That had been floating around in the air all day, and Alfred had finally got it off his chest. "You're crazy!" he shouted, before running to help Kiku.

He didn't see the little angry tears that had formed in Arthur's eyes at those words, but they wouldn't have affected him anyway. Arthur did nothing when they began to fall from his eyes.

The fire had progressed to burning outside the cage. No one could see Kiku anymore, but they weren't exactly paying attention when they were too busy trying to kill everyone around them. There were loud coughs, most likely a product of all the trapped smoke, but nothing was done about it.

Alfred grabbed a bloodied ax off the ground and ran to the engulfed cage, slamming it down onto the wooden bars with all his might. He created a little opening through the weak and singed wood, immediately crawling in the fiery cage.  
At last, the overhead sprinklers turned on and the room was washed in cool extinguishing droplets. When this happened the remaining survivors left the room in a hurry, but there were still several bloodied bodies on the ground. The water turned into a filthy pink liquid when it reached the floor, thanks to the blood.

After seeing Kiku standing safely in the corner of the cell, albeit panting heavily, Alfred checked his diary.

"_Yao just called. He fixed the sprinklers, which were sabotaged._

_Kiku is showing me his diary._

_Arthur enters the cell with an ax."_

He shut his phone, pocketed it, and jogged up to Kiku. His lovely garbs were singed darker here and there, but other than that he appeared to be fine if a bit shaken.

"You okay?" he called.

The Japanese man did not answer. He was gazing outside his cell at the corpses and panicked escaping citizens.

He took in a deep, drawn out breath, and then,

"Calm yourselves, you foolish retches!" he shouted.

They quickly did as they were told and stopped running, bowing to Kiku instantly.

"Oh, Alfred-san." Kiku blinked, apparently not noticing him before. He eyed the ax in the American's hand and smiled kindly. "You came to save me."

After every still living person had left, Arthur remained on the ground surrounded by lifeless and shredded men and women.

In his mind, he was furiously denying that Alfred could ever be so cruel to anyone, ever, especially himself. The Alfred he knew was always so happy and carefree, and this one was being a paranoid, cowardly mess. It had to have been Kiku's doing. Arthur knew that something very, very wrong was happening right under their noses, and he wouldn't stand for his beloved and stupid American to be taken advantage of. He glared daggers at Kiku, who was having a pleasant conversation with Alfred while Arthur was alone and being rained on. It made him sick. Perhaps, if he were able to somehow be rid of Kiku, then Alfred would notice how much he cared.

The surplus of stray axes lying around was a much welcome gift.

"Why was everyone going crazy?" Alfred asked Kiku.

The Japanese man was protecting his paper diary from the rain, shielding it under his large, loose sleeved.

"I think it was hypnosis." he replied.

"Hypnosis?"

"Someone was clearly controlling my adherents."

Kiku frowned in dismay. That would mean that someone had figured out the weakness of his Clairvoyant Diary, and that there was a counter-attack against him.

O

"How's your eye feel, Ninth?"

In the basement of the Honda Shrine, Feliks was currently being held in your average steel barred prison. His captor, the same mysterious man who had gouged his eye out, was twirling the key to Feliks' handcuffs on one finger and toying with a recorder in his other hand. His face was obscured in the shadows as it usually was thanks to the basement's, and apparent prison's, dim lighting. Another question would be why there was a prison below the shrine, but that was for another time.

"Or do ya prefer I call you Feliks?"

Feliks glared at the man but didn't say a word.

"You look better, and you're not in as much pain. The treatment was effective."

The terrorist's eye was being held captive in a clear glass filled with discolored water. It was placed on top of a rusty desk, looking beck at him with a mutilated iris.

He almost laughed at the use of the word _treatment_. Wasn't medical treatment supposed to be at least somewhat humane? He was almost certain that paralyzing a person and then ruthlessly pulling their eye straight out of its socket was not the kindest thing in the world, nor should it ever be considered treatment. And to top it off, this treatment was used to give the man information about First.

"Don't waste time plotting an escape. You don't have any chance against Mr. Honda."

This man was also a part of the Honda cult, or at least, he clearly worshiped Kiku if a little falsely. To Feliks, it sounded like a crock of shit.

"Your power to escape can't beat Mr. Honda's power to see the distant future- huh?"

The shaded man put a hand to his ear behind his spiky hair, pointing to the ceiling.

"It's getting quieter up there. They must have stopped rioting."

This had been the topic of conversation for a long while. Feliks had absolutely no idea what his captor was talking about when they spoke of the rioting upstairs. He could hear nothing out of the ordinary.

O

Alfred cursed inwardly when there was no response received from Yao. He had tried calling him, but the Chinese man was just not picking up. It worried the American, not knowing where an ally was.

"The enemy is somewhere on the premises." Kiku blanched. "We should determine where the enemy is hiding."

He unraveled the slightly wet and crinkled diary and displayed the many names of his followers. There had to have been even more than a thousand in there, it was unbelievable. Kiku could see exactly what all of his followers were seeing, just from this scroll.

Due to Kiku's very poor vision, he needed to resort to using a small magnifying glass to read the entries. He wiped the condensation from the glass and leaned it, concentrating.

"There's someone suspicious in the lodge." he murmured. "I'll dispatch any nearby adherents."

He proceeded to call for any servants nearby in his ever soft voice.

It wasn't any surprise that he was able to capture Ninth, his diary was incredible. Alfred was just glad that they weren't enemies.

The sound of wood splintering jolted Alfred back to reality. He turned in defense mode and wasn't sure whether to bristle or relax at the entrance of Arthur into the cell. The fact that he was carrying an ax worried Alfred.

"A-Arthur!" he stammered. "Hold on, I'll just come to you. Can ya wait outside for a bit?"

He considered it for a while, then nodded, leaving the cell without another word, grumbling for Alfred to hurry up.

When he had tried getting inside the cell, it gave Alfred a horribly bad feeling. Why did he choose to arm himself with an ax?

O

Feliks experimented in rattling the chains and attempting to slip his hands through the shackles, but he was unsuccessful. The spiky-haired man had left the room some time ago, doing who knows what.

He re-entered a moment later, wearing a long, sleek black overcoat that reached his knees and had red stitches. Beneath that he had red pants, and black boots that went mid-calf.

He was in the light now, and Feliks could clearly see sky blue eyes that were dull and off white in the center, and now a lot of things made sense.

This man could clearly hear the happenings of the floor above, as if his hearing was heightened, and he somehow had the capabilities of walking in the dark near constantly, also, that strange tape recorder he constantly kept by him didn't seem so pointless.

This man, dubbed as Twelfth, was completely blind.

O

Alfred helped an unfocused Kiku out of his cell, helping him onto the ground floor as he could not see very well, if barely at all. He was holding his frail diary close to his chest, eyes fixated on the dead followers littering the ground.

"That's rather nice of you, Alfred." Arthur mused.

He was standing a short distance away, smiling wryly at them through his lidded eyes.

"Sixth, just stop stringing him along because he's so clueless."

Kiku shook his head, clearly understanding that he wasn't liked very well by the Brit.

"I... I have a plan." he reasoned. "But I'll need Alfred-kun to-"

"You don't need him!"

His grip tensed on the ax, and his wry smile turned into a furious glare.

"You don't need him, because you're going to die here."

The moment he raised the ax, all three of their diaries changed. A dead end flag had been set for them, including Kiku, which would probably prove his suspicions of the Japanese man wrong, and would mean that there was another diary user nearby somehow altering their futures. Of course, Feliks was in the basement, but wasn't he completely locked up and immobile? It would've seemed that something entirely unexpected was afoot for them.

O

"It's effin' crazy up there." Twelfth, or Mathias, grinned.

"So you can actually hear, like, all the way up there?" Feliks clarified.

The Dane nodded, shifting his attention to the prisoner again.

"Mr. Honda has the power to see everything that happens here. I can hear it, not see it. I'll destroy this evil cult myself."

"Evil? How do you know this cult is bad?" Feliks puzzled.

The sightless man shushed, shrugging.

"My diary told me to, so I know it's bad. Those guys up there don't stand a chance against me and my giant ax. I'm the good guy, they're the bad guys. That's all there is to it in my book."

Feliks scoffed, flipping his blonde hair with dignity and a flick of his head.

"You really think so? I bet those guys up there could totally beat your ass. Especially that damn Second. If it weren't for him and First, I'd still have my eye."

o

At this rate, all three of them would die. Or at least Alfred and Kiku would, because none of their diaries gave any info on Arthur. They just didn't know who their enemy was at the moment.

Arthur furrowed his thick brows in thought. All of the crazy events that had happened so far had been completely random and out of the ordinary. As far as they knew, no one had started the fire, and no one had set off a riot and caused the servants and worshipers to kill each other. They had completely drawn a blank. That is until Arthur caught something moving out of his peripheral vision. Giving it a glance, he noticed something that definitely should not have been happening. The corpses were moving. Only the slightest of movements, like a blinking eye or a rising breath, but surely they were still completely alive. Suddenly set on high alert, he raised the ax again.

Alfred blanched and moved to stop Arthur from swinging at Kiku, but was caught by surprise when he just gushed the dull weapon into the belly of a limp body lying on the floor. The body grunted and Arthur giggled in understanding.

He did this to several more bodies, all of them crying out in pain when they were struck. It was the hypnosis that had caused them to fight each other, yes, and it was also the hypnosis making them play dead. Someone in the shrine was making them do this, so by killing them for real, he'd be somehow foiling their plans.

Kiku quirked an eyebrow and Alfred panicked at his strange behavior.

"Arthur, dude, what... what are you doing?" Alfred said, bewildered.

"Killing the corpses," he said it as if it were the most painfully obvious thing in the world.

Indeed, the bodies that hadn't been truly killed began to rise again, moving in a clearly zombie-like fashion. They swayed on their feet and their eyes looked hollow as before, hell, they even limped. They were all steadily moving in on the three while looking at nothing in particular.

"They were never dead in the first place." Arthur finished.

The American had only encountered zombies in video games, but really facing them was another problem completely. They weren't really zombies, they were just hypnotized people, but then again, how did that explain all the blood?

Kiku backed into the wall, clutching at his diary for dear life and quivering in alarm and fear. When one of the bodies charged to him awkwardly he let out a yelp but was surprised to see Arthur hack at it with the cull ax before it was able to get to him.

When blood stained his green sweater he was completely unfazed and just kept hacking at the bodies as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

"Don't get any ideas," he called to Kiku. "It's not like I"m protecting you or anything, but you make for a nice decoy."

Kiku nodded dumbly. The blonde seemed to have a real license to kill.

He began to panic, realizing that his plans were crumbling, and that Arthur's suspicion just might ruin them all.

O

Feliks laughed proudly at Mathias' frustrated expression, trying to wiggle out of the restraints again.

"Didn't believe me? Like I said, that guy is _so _not normal."

o

**AN: UGH chapter is UGH.**

**The JapAme isn't until next.**

**I'm sorry about the terrible quality, I just wanted to get the first part of the Kiku arc over with because it's not near as eventful as the second part. Oh I can't wait to write Sealand in a few chapters.**

**I do not own Mirai Nikki or Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.**

**Do you like my choice in characters? Yes? No? Tell me in a review.**

**After I get done with these two kind of crossover kind of not crossover stories I'll be making one that's not based off anything. **

**Again, about this chapter,_ I'm sorry_. Thank you for following this story and I hope you hang in there. **


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